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HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND   COMPANY, 

BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK. 


HOMESPUN   YARNS 


MRS.  A.  D.  T.  WHITNEY 

AUTHOR  OF  "  BONNYBOROUGH,"  "  FAITH  GARTNEY's  GIRLHOOD," 

"THE  GAYWORTHIES,"  THE  "REAL  FOLKS"  SERIES, 

"  ODD,  OR  EVEN,"  ETC.,  ETC. 


BOSTON  AND    NEW  YORK 
HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND   COMPANY 
Press,  (£amfcrib0e 
1887 


Copyright,  1886, 
BT  ADELINE  D.  T.  WIIITXEZ. 

All  rights  reserved. 


The  Riverside  Press,  Cambridge: 
Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  H.  0.  Hough  ton  &  Co. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

WHEN  I  WAS  A  LITTLE  GIRL 1 

MY  MOTHEK  PUT  IT  ON 28 

BUTTERED  CRUSTS 42 

THE  SOAP-BUBBLE  QUESTION 99 

How  THE  MIDDIES  SET  UP  SHOP 113 

THE  LITTLE  SAVAGES  OF  BEETLE  KOCK     ....       180 

GlRL-NOBLESSE 202 

SALLY  GIBSON'S  SPUNK 240 

How  BEL  CAUGHT  THE  "BURGLAR" 301 

TRYING  ON  BONNETS 313 

ZERUB  THROOP'S  EXPERIMENT  .  324 


1694433 


HOMESPUN  YARNS. 

WHEN  I  WAS  A  LITTLE   GIRL. 
I. 

THE  world  has  grown  a  great  piece  since  I  was  a  little 
girl,  and  I  am  not  a  hundred  years  old  either.  Jamie 
and  I  both  have  our  grandchildren,  to  be  sure  ;  but  Jamie's 
are  not  big  enough  yet  for  anything  but  "  this  little  pig 
and  that  little  pig ;  "  and  my  own  have  only  just  begun  to 
tease  me  for  "  stories  about  when  you  were  a  little  girl ;  " 
and  so  by  way  of  posting  up  my  memory,  and  lest  when 
it  begins  to  drop  things  it  may  let  slip  some  of  the  dear 
old  recollections  that  should  be  handed  down  in  a  family, 
I  will  try  and  rehearse  a  little,  setting  down  a  few  frag 
ments  in  black  and  white,  where  they  can  at  least  be 
"  kept  till  called  for."  For  I  hold  that  happy  recollec 
tions  are  the  very  best  of  heirlooms,  and  should  at  least 
be  cherished  by  the  generations  equally  with  the  tea 
spoons  and  the  old  china  and  the  silver  knee-buckles. 

The  city  that  I  was  born  in  has  grown,  since  then, 
away  out  into  the  country ;  and  the  country  has  grown 
away  out  over  the  wilderness  and  the  mountains,  till  it 
stands  thinking  awlu'le  what  is  to  be  done  next  on  the 
shores  of  another  ocean.  It  is  a  good  thing  that  the 
world  is  round.  What  would  have  become  of  us  all,  and 
of  our  travels,  if  there  had  been  a  "  jumping-off  place  "  ? 

When  I  was  a  little  girl,  born  in  a  city,  there  were  n't 
1 


2  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

half  so  many  cities  to  be  born  in  as  there  are  now.  Doz 
ens  of  them  have  been  born,  since  then,  themselves. 

There  were  no  gas-lights  in  those  nights,  in  the  streets 
or  in  the  houses.  The  lamplighters  used  to  come  round 
in  the  mornings,  with  their  ladders  and  oil-cans,  and  trim 
and  fill  the  lanterns  ;  running  up  the  rungs,  and  sliding 
down  the  posts.  Then  at  evening  they  came  again  with 
their  torches,  and  lit  them  up.  It  was  great  amusement 
for  the  city  children  to  watch  them  from  the  windows  ; 
they  had  grown  so  quick,  so  elf-like,  so  shiny  from  head 
to  foot  with  their  employ.  In  the  parlors  we  had  astral 
lamps,  giving  the  starlike  light  that  their  name  signifies. 
Then  there  were  mantel  lamps,  and  hanging  lamps  in  the 
chandeliers,  which  were  like  the  children,  sure  to  behave 
their  worst  if  there  was  company. 

We  had  n't  any  furnaces  then ;  and  I  remember  when 
there  were  no  cooking-ranges,  and  very  few  coal-grates ; 
and  how  the  old  gentlemen  grumbled  when  the  new  inven 
tions  first  came,  and  could  n't  eat  their  roast  beef  that  was 
no  longer  cooked  by  a  wood-blaze,  or  reconcile  themselves 
at  all  to  "  sitting  round  a  hole  in  the  carpet." 

Ways  of  living  were  different.  There  was  n't  half  so 
much  cloth  wanted,  nor  half  so  much  sewing  or  house 
keeping  to  be  done  ;  and  yet  they  all  thought  they  were 
pretty  busy,  too.  Very  nice  people  were  contented  to  have 
hair-cloth  covered  chairs  and  sofas,  and  plain  white  blinds 
to  their  windows,  and  they  only  put  five  widths  into  their 
silk  dresses.  There  were  pictures  of  women  in  hoops  in 
the  histories  we  studied  at  school ;  and  we  wondered  at 
them,  as  we  did  at  the  costumes  of  the  Turks  and  the 
Japanese. 

When  I  was  a  very  little  girl,  there  were  no  omnibuses 
even.  At  least  not  in  our  city.  Street-cars  had  never 
been  dreamed  of.  There  were  no  enormous  distances  to 


WHEN  I    WAS  A   LITTLE   GIRL.  3 

traverse,  such  as  there  are  now.  The  street  we  lived  in, 
which  is  to-day  quite  in  the  old  part  of  the  town,  had  but 
one  house,  then,  helow  our  own,  which  stood  little  more 
than  half-way  down.  A  great  square  of  elegant  dwell 
ings  opposite  was  then  a  vacant  ground,  where  boys 
played  ball  and  marbles,  and  flew  kites,  and  built  snow 
forts  in  winter.  Brick  by  brick,  we  children,  as  we  grew, 
saw  all  these  stately  mansions  grow  up  likewise,  only 
faster,  as  is  the  nature  of  things  contrasted  with  souls. 

When  we  went  out  of  town,  we  drove  in  carriages  or 
traveled  in  stages.  The  steam-whistle,  that  shrieks  from 
end  to  end  of  the  great  metropolis  to-day,  had  never  lifted 
up  its  eldritch  voice.  The  sweet  country  roads  wound 
still  and  green  out  from  the  paved  thoroughfares,  crossed 
by  no  iron  tracks,  and  bestridden  by  no  warning  sign 
board  bidding  *'  Beware  of  the  Engine  !  "  It  was  some 
thing,  then,  to  go  out  of  town  ! 

Country  was  country  in  those  days,  —  not  merely  in 
convenient  city.  Twenty  miles  was  a  journey.  And 
when  you  got  there  you  found  a  new  atmosphere  and  look 
to  things.  City  contrivances  and  fashions  did  n't  appear 
simultaneously  in  the  farm-houses.  They  had  asparagus 
branches  in  the  fire-places,  and  peacocks'  feathers  over 
the  looking-glasses.  You  did  n't  find  the  same  patterns  of 
paper  on  the  walls,  or  carpets  on  the  floors.  And  there 
were  n't  any  photograph-albums  lying  about,  or  novels 
and  magazines  on  the  tables.  Who  had  ever  heard  of  a 
sun-picture  then  ?  You  might  see  an  ancient  portrait  or 
two  in  the  best  parlor,  and  you  might  find  the  Scottish 
Chiefs,  or  the  Romance  of  the  Forest,  or  The  Spectator, 
or  Paradise  Lost,  or  Thomson's  Seasons,  if  you  looked  for 
books.  But  these  would  n't  be  lying  about ;  they  would 
be  safely  put  away  on  shelf  or  in  cupboard,  and  you 
would  have  to  look  for  them.  Country  was  countrified  ; 


4  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

it  was  n't  brackish  with  a  mixture  of  city  airs ;  it  was 
sweet  and  pure  and  simple  and  distinct,  with  ways  of  its 
own. 

I  am  going  to  tell  a  story  :  that  was  what  I  began  for. 
Children  like  particular  memories  better  than  general  ret 
rospections.  It  was  to  be  a  story,  or,  rather,  a  bit  of 
that  inexhaustible  story  from  which  old  ladies  draw,  of 
"  When  I  was  a  little  girl." 

It  shall  be  a  story  of  a  summer  journey. 

There  were  two  of  us,  my  brother  and  I.  We  were 
sent  to  bed  early,  because  we  were  to  set  off  early  in  the 
morning.  We  put  our  shoes  and  clean  stockings  beside 
our  beds,  ready  for  the  feet  to  pop  into ;  the  clothes  were 
laid  out  for  each  of  us  on  chairs.  Fresh  pantalets,  with 
their  triple  ruffles  ;  the  fine  flannel  petticoat  with  its  brier- 
stitched  hem,  and  the  dimity  overskirt,  edged  with  tiny 
points,  —  for  my  mother  was  dainty  of  her  little  ones' 
apparel ;  the  frock  of  French  print  and  the  nankeen  coat, 
braided  with  white,  —  these  were  for  me.  Jamie  had  his 
blue  suit  with  the  eagle  buttons,  and  his  new  straw  hat 
with  dark  blue  ribbon  to  match. 

Two  queer  things  came,  or  seemed  to  come,  close  to 
gether.  A  restless  toss  upon  my  pillow,  with  a  word  to 
Jamie  lying  in  the  little  open  room  adjoining,  "  Oh.  dear, 
Jamie !  this  night  never  will  be  gone  !  I  can't  go  to 
sleep,  and  it  won't  be  morning  till  I  do  I  "  And  then  — 
our  mother's  bright,  sweet  look  above  me,  and  the  sun 
making  golden  bars  across  the  chamber  through  the 
blinds,  and  her  call,  "  Wake  up,  little  sleepers  !  We  Ve 
got  a  journey  to  begin  !  "  Just  in  a  wink  the  night  was 
gone,  after  all. 

I  suppose,  if  you  could  see  a  picture  of  our  mother, 
she  would  look  to  you  very  like  the  queer  mammas  in  the 
old  editions  of  Rosamond,  and  Harry  and  Lucy.  That  is 


WHEN  I   WAS  A   LITTLE  GIRL.  5 

one  reason  I  like  those  old  story-books  so  much  to  this 
day.  But  I  know,  from  my  childish  memory,  and  because 
I  have  been  told,  that  there  was  hardly  a  lovelier  lady  to 
be  seen  in  those  days  than  she,  with  her  dark  hair  gath 
ered  up  in  knots  and  bows  and  bands  about  the  delicately 
wrought  high-topped  tortoise-shell  comb,  and  the  soft  little 
curls  lying  lightly  upon  her  temples.  I  have  a  picture  of 
her  so,  with  a  short-waisted  dress,  and  a  broad  belt  and 
gold  buckle,  and  great  sleeves  that  look  odd,  to  be  sure, 
but  somehow  stately,  rounding  out  their  airy  swell  from 
shoulder  to  elbow. 

She  had  on  her  gray  pongee  traveling-habit  when  she 
came  to  wake  us  that  morning,  —  a  dress  such  as  ladies 
wore  in  those  days  upon  journeys  ;  turned  away  in  front 
from  a  white  habit-shirt  with  little  crimped  ruffles,  and 
the  great  sleeves  coming  in  small  and  close  at  the  wrists, 
finished  with  the  same  nice  cambric  crimpings.  Her 
hair,  except  the  little  curls  upon  the  temples,  was  wound 
smoothly  around  the  comb  in  one  great  glossy  band,  which 
it  was  my  delight  always  to  see  her  brush  when  she 
dressed  it,  holding  it  with  some  difficulty  in  the  grasp 
of  one  hand,  while  with  the  other  she  swept  out  its  splen 
did  length  away  down  to  her  knees  as  she  sat  before  her 
toilet-glass.  Such  hair  as  that  is  hardly  to  be  seen  now, 
except  sewed  to  wires,  so  that  anybody  can  buy  it  and  tie 
it  on. 

We  woke  wide  up  in  a  minute,  Jamie  and  I ;  and 
mother  laughed  to  see  us  scramble  on  our  stockings,  heels 
before,  in  our  hurry,  asking  questions,  and  chattering  like 
newly  wakened  swallows. 

'"  0  mother,  have  you  been  to  breakfast  ?  Why  did  n't 
you  call  us  sooner  ?  " 

"  Who  cares  for  breakfast  ?     Are  the  horses  come  ?  " 

"  O  Jamie,  how  many  stockings  have  you  got  on  ?  " 


6  HOMESPUN  YARNS. 

"  I  'm  most  ready  ;  but  it  always  takes  girls  so  long !  " 

"  I  'm  glad  my  hair  's  just  cut.  Snarls  are  the  worst 
things.  There,  Jamie,  I'm  most  ready  too.  Oh,  just 
think,  it  really  has  come,  —  to-day  !  And  we  're  going 
to  Ridgeley !  " 

"  Not  to-day.  We  shall  ride  all  day  to-day,  and  part 
of  to-morrow.  And  I  shall  drive.  That 's  the  best  of  it. 
Are  they  gray  horses  or  black  ones  ?  O  mother,  these 
eagle  buttons  are  so  new !  they  won't  go  through  the 
holes  !  Please  just  come  and  fasten  this." 

And,  after  all,  I  was  ready  as  soon  as  Jamie. 

Table-rules  had  to  be  suspended  that  morning.  Jamie 
was  at  the  window  half  a  dozen  times  with  his  biscuit  in 
his  hand,  watching  for  the  horses  that  were  driven  up  at 
last,  —  a  pale  cream-colored  and  a  gray  one,  —  beauties, 
with  long  tails.  Jamie  went  then  and  finished  his  biscuit 
sitting  upon  the  front  seat  with  the  driver.  I  sat  on  the 
doorstep,  looking  alternately  at  him  and  at  something  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  street  that  had  been  a  childish  mys 
tery  and  wonder  to  me  ever  since  I  could  remember,  and 
that  I  could  hardly  reason  myself  from  my  first  thought 
of,  though  I  knew  better  now.  There  was  an  old  gate, 
seldom  used,  that  led  into  a  garden  ;  and  on  this  gate  was 
a  streak  that  had  precisely  the  effect  of  a  black  cat's  tail 
shut  in.  How  many  weary  minutes  I  had  watched  it  from 
the  nursery  window  above,  wondering  if  I  should  ever  see 
the  gate  opened,  and  find  out  if  there  were  really  a  black 
cat  there  or  not !  To  this  day  I  never  have.  The  illu 
sion  was  always  complete.  There  was  the  tail,  curved  up 
from  the  crack  as  if  in  pain,  and  the  cat  must  be  on  the 
other  side  of  it.  I  could  not  help  looking  at  it  and  think 
ing  of  it  so,  even  after  my  mother  had  led  me  over  and 
shown  me  that  it  was  only  a  dash  of  black  paint. 

When  my  father  and  mother  had  finished  their  break- 


WHEN  I    WAS  A   LITTLE   GIRL.  1 

fast,  and  mother  had  put  on  the  Leghorn  bonnet  with  its 
high  crown  that  went  over  the  great  comb,  and  its  wide 
brim  that  shaded  her  face  and  held,  away  back  against 
the  soft  curls,  gauze  bows  and  flowers,  I  helped  Martha 
bring  out  the  bags  and  shawls.  I  had  also  my  doll  and 
three  picture-books.  There  were  pockets  to  the  carriage, 
and  a  great  box  under  the  driver's  seat.  It  was  great  fun 
to  pack  these, —  to  put  in  first  the  little  parcels  that  would 
not  be  wanted  till  night,  and  then  the  books  and  the  cakes 
and  the  paper  of  sugar-plums  which  were  to  be  wanted 
first,  and  were  to  console  the  tediousness  of  the  journey 
when  the  hours  began  to  grow  long  in  the  heat  of  the  day. 

There  was  an  excellent  place  for  Dolly ;  a  seat  by  her 
self,  formed  by  the  steps  of  the  carriage  on  the  farther 
side,  where  they  were  folded  up  within  the  door.  You 
don't  see  carriages  made  so  now.  They  are  hung  low, 
and  there  is  just  one  iron  step  that  is  never  folded  in  ;  but 
in  those  days,  when  Jamie  and  I  went  to  Ridgeley  in  the 
summers,  it  was  a  great  part  of  the  ceremony  and  delight, 
—  the  letting  down  of  the  steps  with  a  rattle,  the  ascend 
ing  them  to  the  high  body  of  the  vehicle,  and  the  shut 
ting  them  up  with  a  slam  by  the  driver  after  we  were 
in. 

So  at  last  the  trunks  were  strapped  behind,  and  we  were 
off,  in  the  fresh,  sparkling  summer  morning.  The  man 
from  the  stable  gave  up  the  long  white  reins  to  my  father 
when  he  was  seated,  touched  his  hat,  and  walked  away 
down  the  sidewalk,  putting  one  hand  in  his  pocket,  as  he 
had  doubtless  had  pleasant  occasion  given  him  to  do ;  the 
little  children  playing  in  the  sand  where  the  new  house 
was  building  down  the  street  looked  up  as  we  went  by, 
and  I  was  very  sorry  for  them  that  they  were  to  have  no 
better  time  to-day,  when  Jamie  and  I  were  going  off  on 
a  journey ;  the  wheels  clattered  merrily  over  the  round 


8  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

paving-stones  till  we  got  upon  the  "soft  street,"  as  we 
children  called  it,  where  the  new  macadamizing  had  been 
done ;  and  presently  we  drove  over  a  long  bridge  with  a 
wide  blue  river  running  below,  and  came  really  and  truly 
out  into  the  beginning  of  the  country. 

"  Now,  father,  let  me  drive,"  said  Jamie. 

"  By  and  by,"  said  father. 

"  It 's  nice  and  level  here,"  said  Jamie,  with  as  strong 
suggestion  of  argument  as  he  was  apt  to  venture  upon. 
He  did  not  say  "  Why  not  now,  father  ?  "  as  some  boys 
would,  —  not  by  any  means  naughty  boys  either.  He 
knew  that  when  father  said  "  by  and  by,"  he  meant  by 
and  by,  and  that  the  "  why  not  now  ?  "  of  persistence  was 
never  tolerated. 

"  Yes,  it 's  nice  and  level,"  replied  my  father,  who  was, 
on  his  part,  never  unnecessarily  short  or  peremptory  in  his 
denials ;  "  but  I  have  two  very  good  reasons  for  not  let 
ting  you  drive  just  yet.  I  wonder  if  you  can  guess  what 
they  are." 

"  Perhaps  there  's  a  hill  coming." 

"  We  might  be  coming  to  a  hill,  possibly  ;  I  don't  think 
the  hills  will  put  themselves  at  all  out  of  their  way  to 
meet  us ;  that  ivould  be  something  frightful,  and  require 
a  man  at  the  reins  !  No,  that  is  n't  it." 

"Perhaps  you  think  we  '11  meet  a  drove  of  sheep." 

"  If  we  did,  I  could  relieve  your  responsibility.  No, 
that  is  n't  it,  either." 

"  Well,  father,"  said  Jamie,  looking  with  his  bright  blue 
eyes  all  around  and  forward  upon  the  unobstructed  way, 
"  I  don't  think  I  see  any  great  reason  at  all." 

Father  laughed. 

"  You  discriminate  wisely  between  'I  don't  think  I  see  ' 
and  '  I  don't  think  there  is.'  Well,  I  '11  tell  you.  In  the 
first  place,  the  horses  are  fresh." 


WHEN  I    WAS  A    LITTLE   GIRL.  9 

"Fresh?" 

"  Yes  ;  not  at  all  tired,  and  inclined  to  go  pretty  fast." 

"  I  guess  I  could  hold  them,"  said  Jamie,  straightening 
up  his  little  person,  and  looking  very  mighty  indeed  with 
squared  elbo\vs  and  closed  fists  that  made  little  back  and 
forth  movements  as  if  grasping  the  tugging  reins.  "  But 
what  is  the  other  reason  ?  " 

"  You  are  fresh,  too,"  said  father. 

Jamie  looked  a  little  uncomprehending. 

"  You  have  just  begun  your  day,  and  the  pleasure  of  it. 
You  have  n't  used  any  of  it  up.  By  and  by  you  will  be 
gin  to  get  a  little  tired  of  sitting  still  and  merely  looking 
about.  It  will  be  a  good  plan,  then,  to  have  the  pleasure 
of  the  driving  in  reserve.  The  best  for  the  last,  Jamie, 
—  like  the  mince-pie." 

"  Only  I  did  n't  get  that,  after  all,"  said  Jamie.  "  It 's 
a  bad  plan  to  save  up  too  long." 

"  If  I  did  n't  understand  better  than  Miss  Eunice,"  said 
father,  laughing. 

Miss  Eunice  was  an  elderly  lady  friend,  to  whose  house 
our  mother  had  taken  Jamie  and  me  some  time  before. 
There  were  two  kinds  of  pie  at  dinner,  and  we  had  given 
us  a  small  piece  of  each.  Jamie  had  carefully  set  aside 
his  mince-pie  on  his  plate,  and  eaten  all  the  apple-pie  first, 
on  the  principle  of  keeping  the  best  until  the  last ;  when, 
to  his  great  consternation,  before  he  could  touch  his  knife 

O 

to  his  favorite  morsel,  Miss  Eunice  interposed. 

"  You  don't  like  the  mince-pie,  do  you,  dear  ?  Well, 
here  's  another  bit  of  apple."  And  in  a  twinkling  the 
substitution  was  made,  and  the  mince-pie  laid  back  upon 
its  own  dish.  Jamie  did  n't  cry,  though  he  came  pretty 
near  it  for  a  second ;  but  he  told  me  privately,  afterwards, 
that  Miss  Eunice  wras  a  "  gump,"  and  I  think  the  lady 
never  regained  her  former  place  in  his  estimation. 


10  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

Poor  Jamie !  I  don't  remember  that  ever  in  his  life  he 
lost  anything  again  by  saving  it  up  too  long ! 

"  There  's  a  cow  in  the  road,  father !  "  cried  Jamie, 
suddenly,  a  minute  after ;  "  and  she  looks  cross,  or  some 
thing.  What  is  the  matter  with  her  ?  " 

Mother  and  I  looked  out,  then,  at  the  front,  between 
father's  elbow  and  Jamie's  shoulder,  and  saw,  directly  be 
fore  us,  at  some  rods'  distance,  a  white  cow,  in  apparently 
a  very  agitated  state  of  mind,  moving  to  and  fro  with  un 
certain  air,  and  a  sort  of  plunge  in  her  quickened  gait ; 
giving  an  excited  toss  of  her  head  every  now  and  then, 
accompanied  by  a  short  and  anxious  "moo." 

"  She  's  crazy,  I  guess,"  said  Jamie. 

"  She  's  in  some  trouble,"  said  my  father.  "  Strayed 
away  from  her  pasture,  probably,  and  lost  herself." 

"  Is  it  quite  safe  to  pass  her  ?  "  asked  my  mother,  anx 
iously.  She  was  a  little  timid  in  a  carriage.  "  Won't  she 
frighten  the  horses  ?  " 

"  Or  hook  them  ?  "  asked  I,  who  had  a  special  terror  of 
horned  beasts. 

"  Oh  no,"  answered  father,  quite  calmly.  "  There  '11  be 
no  danger.  She  '11  move  aside  as  we  come  up.  She  's 
only  astray,  as  I  said,"  he  added,  as  we  approached  her 
nearer.  "  I  can  see  the  rope  about  her  neck.  She  has- 
been  tied,  and  broken  away." 

We  could  all  see  it  now,  hanging  from  her  neck  and 
swaying  about,  dragging  one  end  in  the  dust  as  she  moved. 

She  was  heading  toward  the  right-hand  side  of  the  road 
as  we  came  up,  and  father  took  the  left. 

Suddenly  a  queer  thing  happened,  that  really  threw  us 
into  danger. 

As  we  approached  the  cow,  and  were  about  to  pass,  she 
hastened  her  steps  across  the  road,  at  the  same  time  turn 
ing  down  toward  us  on  our  right.  With  this  movement, 


WHEN  I   WAS  A   LITTLE   GIRL.  11 

her  rope,  that  had  been  dragging  on  the  ground,  lifted, 
and  showed  itself  attached  to  a  heavy  chain,  which  in  its 
turn  reached  up  the  steep  bank  on  our  left,  and  was  fas 
tened  to  a  post  in  the  rail  fence.'  A  gap  in  this  fence, 
close  by,  and  furrows  in  the  bank,  made  it  evident,  at  a 
glance,  how  she  had  got  into  her  present  position,  and 
what  was  her  trouble,  and  ours  as  well. 

It  was  a  peril,  though  a  strange  and  ludicrous  one,  for 
an  instant.  Blundering  Mooly  all  but  had  us  in  a  fright 
ful  noose.  The  horses  would  have  been  entangled  and 
thrown  down,  and  the  cow,  perhaps,  tumbled  into  the 
carriage,  with  three  more  forward  steps  of  either.  My 
father  turned  short  round  to  the  right,  striking  with  his 
whip,  at  the  same  instant,  toward  Mooly,  to  check  her  ad 
vance.  The  carriage  gave  a  whirl  and  a  tilt, —  for  the  for 
ward  wheels  were  not  made  to  run  under ;  the  cow  tossed 
her  horns  under  the  very  noses  of  the  horses,  and  fell 
back ;  the  horses  sprang  past  her  and  dashed  on,  my  fa 
ther  drawing  the  reins  tightly  ;  and  for  another  two  or 
three  rods  it  was  a  question  of  a  run.  But  they  were 
curb-bitted,  and  the  hands  upon  them  were  steady ;  and 
in  a  minute  more  the  danger  was  over,  and  we  caught  our 
breaths. 

Mother  was  very  pale,  leaning  back  in  her  corner  of  the 
carriage.  As  "soon  as  father  could  transfer  the  reins  to 
one  hand  again,  he  leaned  back  anxiously  toward  her. 

"  Are  you  faint,  Susie  ?  " 

"  Oh  no,"  answered  my  mother  with  a  smile,  the  color 
coming  back  a  little  to  her  cheeks ;  "  but  it  was  a  great 
fright." 

"  It  has  proved  our  horses.  They  were  less  startled 
than  most  animals  would  have  been,  and  I  have  them  per 
fectly  under  control." 

Father  always  found  something  to  say  which  was  just 


12  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

the  assurance  mother  needed.  He  never  told  her  not  to 
he  afraid  ;  he  always  gave  her  a  reason  why  she  should 
feel  that  fear  was  uncalled  for.  She  smiled  again,  in  re 
ply  ;  and,  though  she  did  not  say  much  for  some  minutes, 
the  color  kept  creeping  hack  to  her  face,  and  the  expres 
sion  of  anxiety  relaxed,  and  I  could  see  that  her  first 
day's  pleasure  was  not  going  to  be  spoiled  by  the  acci 
dent. 

II. 

We  went  on,  through  two  or  three  suburban  towns ; 
through  reaches  of  wood  where  the  road  lay  between  the 
villages ;  along  the  edges  of  lonely  swamps,  sometimes, 
where  we  heard  the  cry  of  strange  birds,  or  the  croak  of 
great  frogs,  sitting  half  in,  half  out  of  the  water,  on  mossy 
stones  or  stumps,  and  could  see  the  tall,  stately  cat-o'-nine 
tails  standing  in  still  ranks,  with  their  close-fitting  brown 
velvet  uniform  jackets,  always  prim  and  orderly,  and 
drawn  up  in  the  same  array,  as  if  they  had  stood  there 
from  year  to  year,  though  no  one  might  pass  by  for  days 
or  weeks  together  to  see.  I  always  had  peculiar  fancies 
about  these  plants.  They  were  not  flowers,  —  they  had 
no  leaves,  —  they  were  different  from  any  other  growing 
thing.  I  always  saw  them  on  these  summer  journeys,  and 
never  at  any  other  time.  They  seemed  to  wait,  like  elfin 
sentinels,  by  the  wayside,  or  to  stand  spell-bound,  like  en 
chanted  things,  in  motionless  groups,  away  back  among 
green  shadows. 

Then  there  were  roadside  brooks  that  we  drove  through 
to  wet  the  wheels  and  cool  the  horses'  feet,  and  sometimes 
to  let  down  their  heads  for  a  long,  delicious  drink.  We 
had  our  mugs,  too,  in  the  carriage  -  pockets,  and  it  was 
great  pleasure  to  get  out  and  dip  up  from  among  the  shin 
ing  pebbles  the  cool  running  water  that  came  away  down 


WHEN  I    WAS  A   LITTLE   GIRL.  13 

from  the  far  hills,  bringing  with  it  the  sweet  flavor  of  the 
rocks  and  moss,  and  the  purity  that  only  open  streams, 
trickling  along  in  the  fresh  air,  under  sunshine  and  forest 
shadow,  can  ever  have. 

Then  I  unpacked  some  nice  parcel,  and  handed  round 
to  father  and  mother  and  Jamie  the  cakes  that  tasted  so 
good  after  our  ride  of  hours  since  the  early  and  half-eaten 
breakfast.  And  then  we  began  to  "  take  sides  and  guess 
houses," — a  travelers'  game  invented  by  ourselves,  that 
whilecl  away  a  good  piece  of  the  long  stretch  of  time  and 
way  between  morning  and  noon. 

We  made  our  guesses  as  we  wound  along  a  wild  and 
solitary  piece  of  road  where  no  house  was  visible  ;  yet 
that  being  a  road,  we  knew  must  lead,  at  last,  among 
habitations. 

"  I  guess  red,"  would  be  the  first  cry,  from  Jamie  or 
me,  eager  to  claim  the  color  that  in  these  regions  gave 
the  broadest  chance. 

"Well,  I  guess  yellow,"  would  be  the  reply,  taking  the 
alternative.  "  What  do  you  guess,  mother  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know, — black,  perhaps."  Black  stood 
with  us  for  the  weather-beaten  tint  of  the  many  buildings 
that  had  never  known  the  touch  of  paint  at  all. 

And  once  in  a  while  father  would  say,  decidedly,  "  I 
guess  white." 

Then  there  would  be  great  haste  between  us  to  take  his 
side,  which  we  had  good  reason  to  suspect  the  strongest ; 
and  presently,  out  of  the  four  nominated  colors,  we  settled 
down  to  two  parties  only,  each  standing  by  its  own,  — 
the  canvass  greatly  affected  by  the  apparent  comparative 
reliance  of  individuals  upon  their  separate  conjectures, 
which  varied  according  as  they  rested  more  on  memory 
or  chance. 

Then  what  an  eager  watching  for  the  first  glimpse,  at  a 


14  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

turn  in  the  road,  of  some  distant  farm-house,  or  the  show 
ing  of  its  chimney  among  the  trees  !  And  what  glee  and 
triumph  for  two  of  us,  if  a  color  we  had  chosen  turned 
out  to  be  the  right !  Sometimes,  of  course,  we  were  all 
wrong ;  but  this  only  proved  that  father  and  mother  did 
not  always  know  of  a  surety  what  should  come  next,  and 
gave  fresh  zest  of  uncertainty  to  future  ventures. 

We  had  drawn  upon  each  of  these  resources  succes 
sively,  and  we  had  been  four  hours  upon  the  road,  when 
Jamie  said,  "  I  think,  father,  it 's  all  used  up,  now,  but 
the  driving."  And  father,  smiling,  gave  the  reins  into  his 
hands. 

We  were  upon  a  long,  even  reach  of  turnpike  road,  that 
lay  between  fields  of  grass  and  corn.  It  was  a  pretty 
thing  to  see  Jamie,  in  his  bright  new  suit  and  eagle  but 
tons,  sitting  so  upright  and  firm  and  manly,  with  the 
broad  reins  in  his  little  hands,  and  such  a  look  of  glad 
daring  in  his  handsome  face,  as  his  blue  eyes  looked 
straight  forward,  with  a  glow  of  light  in  them,  at  the 
great  free-stepping  horses,  and  the  wind  blew  back  the 
brown  curls  and  waves  of  his  hair  and  the  blue  ribbon  of 
his  hat.  It  was  my  pleasure  to  watch  him  then  ;  I  never 
thought  that  my  resources  were  used  up.  Besides,  if  he 
had  the  driving,  I  had  always  Dolly ;  and  this  was  a 
pleasure  boys  knew  nothing  about. 

"  Shall  we  have  dinner  at  Nishaway  ?  "  asked  Jamie, 
as  father  resumed  the  reins  at  the  brow  of  a  long  hill, 
at  last. 

"  Yes,  at  Nutt's  tavern,"  said  father,  with  an  anticipa 
tion  of  good  cheer  in  his  tone.  Jamie  just  opened  and 
shut  his  lips  in  a  satisfied  way.  Nutt's  tavern  was  an 
enjoyment  of  itself. 

There  were  no  great,  clattering  hotels  then,  with  fusty, 
pinchbeck  style  and  vulgar  hurry ;  we  stopped  at  quiet, 


WHEN  I   WAS  A   LITTLE   GIRL.  15 

roomy  country  inns,  with  broad,  clean,  homely  porticoes, 
and  smooth  slopes  of  turf  rolling  away  from  these  to  the 
roadside  over  which  we  came  up  to  the  door,  under  the 
swinging  sign-hoard. 

Nutt's  tavern  was  a  fair  and  pleasant  specimen  of  such. 
We  arrived  there  to-day,  as  usual,  at  a  little  past  noon ; 
and  the  easy  rumble  of  our  city  equipage  brought 
"  Cap'n  Nutt "  himself  to  the  entrance,  to  make  us  wel 
come. 

"  Ben  thinkin'  't  was  time  to  expect  you,  Squire,  for  a 
week  back."  All  along  the  road,  every  year,  people  ex 
pected  the  "  Squire,"  from  the  Fourth  of  July  "  out,"  as 
our  Irish  brethren  say. 

There  was  a  great  cackling  in  the  farm-yard,  for  the 
hens  were  proclaiming  their  own  "  well  done  "  for  the 
day,  and  the  bountiful  sweetness  of  the  hay  smell  came 
from  the  great  barn  that  stretched  out  at  right  angles 
from  the  tavern  at  a  few  paces'  distance.  A  couple  of 
hostlers  had  loosened  our  horses'  traces,  and  looped  up 
the  harnesses,  while  we  were  alighting  and  looking  round  ; 
and  in  two  minutes  Jamie  was  running  on  before  father 
to  the  barn  to  see  them  cared  for,  and  mother  and  I  had 
gone  into  the  little  low-ceiled,  shaded  best  parlor,  where 
the  bright  brasses  and  asparagus  in  the  wide  brick  fire 
place  and  the  striped  rag-carpet  on  the  floor  looked  just 
as  they  had  done  last  year,  and  every  year  since  I  could 
remember  Nutt's. 

Here  mother  laid  aside  her  high  bonnet,  and  rolled  her 
curls  smoothly  over  her  fingers  by  the  little  tilted  glass 
against  the  wall  that  had  a  gay  lady  on  a  green  bank 
painted  at  the  top,  and  a  gilt  eagle  with  two  chains  of 
bright  balls  festooning  from  his  beak  to  the  corners  of  the 
frame  above.  My  bonnet  and  coat  were  quickly  off  also ; 
and  then  we  walked  out  together  alone:  the  wide  hall  that 


16  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

opened  through  the  house,  and  led  upon  a  great,  square, 
sloping  platform  at  the  hack.  Here  we  found  Mrs.  Nutt, 
round  and  jolly  and  tidy,  and  smiling  at  us  with  that 
especially  benignant  smile  of  an  old  lady  innocent  of 
teeth,  and  gone  hack,  so,  to  a  certain  infantile  simplicity 
and  sweetness  of  expression. 

It  would  he  difficult  to  describe  our  country  dinner ; 
impossible  to  convey  an  idea  of  our  relish  for  it.  There 
were  the  eggs  the  hens  had  just  been  cackling  about ; 
there  was  broiled  chicken,  deliciously  tender,  and  hearty 
beefsteak,  the  least  bit  tough.  There  was  apple-pie  and 
mince-pie  and  custard-pie,  and  cheese,  and  cider,  and 
plum-cake,  and  smoking  tea,  and  yellow  cream,  and  brown 
bread  as  good  as  cake,  and  butter  that  looked  like  gold 
and  smelt  like  a  nosegay  ;  and  there  was  a  great  plate  — 
without  which  a  country -tavern  table  is  never  set  —  of 
doughnuts.  And  we  ate  what  we  liked  best,  and  all  we 
wanted ;  for  all  was  light  and  sweet  and  fresh,  and 
daintily  cooked  by  Mrs.  Nutt's  own  hands ;  and  we  were 
traveling,  and  nothing  ever  hurt  us  on  a  journey. 

After  dinner,  mother  went  up-stairs,  and  had  a  little 
nap :  and  Jamie  and  I  went  all  over  the  yards  and  barn-s, 
and  made  acquaintance  with  a  dog  that  would  roll  over 
and  beg  and  speak,  and  with  a  great,  beautiful  brood  of 
yellow  ducks  which  had  an  old  hen  for  a  step-mother ;  and 
we  drove  the  peacock  round,  and  tried  to  make  him  spread 
his  tail,  which  no  peacock  that  I  ever  saw  would  ever  do 
for  me  until  I  was  old  enough  to  have  outgrown  my  eager 
ness  for  its  fabulous  glories.  And  Captain  Nutt  tried  to 
hunt  up  his  famous  rooster,  of  a  new  breed,  that  he  said 
had  been  out  of  sight  for  some  days,  and  show  him  to 
father  ;  and  when  Moses,  the  hostler,  finally  went  down 
a  trap-door  under  the  barn,  and  routed  him  out  with  a 
great  scurry,  we  had  such  a  laugh  as  never  was  !  It  was  a 


WHEN  I   WAS  A   LITTLE   GIRL.  17 

good  while  before  he  would  come  at  all ;  and  then  such 
a  poor,  pitiful,  sneaking  creature,  with  his  comb  hanging, 
and  his  tail-feathers  draggled  and  broken  and  half  pulled 
out,  and  his  skin  picked  bare  in  spots,  as  showed  himself 
under  protest,  and  made  an  instant  rush  across  the  corner 
of  the  yard,  and  hid  himself  under  a  pile  of  boards,  you 
would  n't  believe  ! 

"  He 's  sheddin'  his  feathers,"  said  Captain  Nutt,  al 
most  as  much  mortified  in  his  turn.  "  I  did  n't  know  he  'd 
got  to  look  so  bad.  The  hens  must  have  been  a-peckin' 
of  him  too ;  and  I  guess  that  air  rampageous  old  red 
rooster  of  Danforth's  has  ben  over,  an'  lied  a  fight.  But 
it 's  a  famous  breed,  for  all  that." 

"  A  bran-new  breed,  squire,"  said  Moses  to  my  father, 
with  a  twinkle  of  fun.  "  All  meat  and  no  feathers." 

Captain  Nutt  and  father  had  a  hearty  laugh  then,  and 
went  off  together  to  look  at  the  oxen. 

We  could  have  stayed  at  Nutt's  tavern  a  whole  week 
happily,  but  in  a  couple  of  hours  from  our  arrival  the 
horses  were  put  to  again  and  driven  round ;  and  mother 
and  I  had  on  our  bonnets,  and  Jamie  was  on  the  front 
seat,  and  we  all  got  in,  and  Mrs.  Nutt  smiled,  and  the 
Captain  bowed,  and  Moses  went  off  with  a  pleased  face 
and  his  hand  in  his  pocket,  and  we  rolled  away  again  over 
the  turf  and  into  the  high-road,  as  Jamie  said,  to  "  renew 
our  journey." 

This  feeling  of  freshness  and  renewal,  and  of  more 
pleasantness  farther  on,  is  the  great  charm  of  a  journey, 
as  it  is  of  our  life. 

It  had  been  nice  to  get  out  of  the  carriage,  and  rest 
ourselves,  and  run  about,  and  eat  a  good  dinner ;  it  was 
nicer  yet  to  set  off  anew,  with  the  great  green  hills  rising 
up  before  us,  among  which  lay  our  road ;  the  horses  feel 
ing,  like  ourselves,  quite  ready  and  glad  to  go  on, —  with 
2 


18  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

other  villages  and  people  to  see,  other  brooks  to  water  at, 
and  a  tea-table  as  bountiful  in  its  way  as  the  dinner  to  be 
ready  for  us  when  we  were  hungry  again,  somewhere,  we 
did  not  know  yet  where ;  perhaps  at  the  tavern  in  Anni- 
ton,  perhaps,  as  last  year,  at  the  "  House  Beautiful." 

"  May  n't  we  stop  at  the  House  Beautiful  ?  "  I  begged, 
when  we  had  traveled  three  hours  more,  and  the  sun  be 
gan  to  slide  down  the  west. 

Now  at  the  House  Beautiful  we  had  found  ourselves 
accidentally  the  year  before,  when  we  had  been  delayed 
by  the  casting  of  a  horse's  shoe,  and  it  had  grown  too  late 
to  reach  Anniton  by  tea-time.  It  had  opened  its  doors  to 
us  while  we  waited,  and  we  had  been  made  welcome,  and 
had  stayed  all  night,  and  had  seen  wonderful  things,  and 
I  had  given  a  name  out  of  my  dear  Pilgrim's  Progress  to 
the  house  of  our  entertainment. 

Two  maiden  ladies  lived  there ;  their  grandfather  had 
kept  it  as  a  tavern  before  Anniton  became  the  stage  stop 
ping-place.  It  was  a  great  rambling  mansion,  with  a  pole 
before  the  door,  from  which  the  sign  had  long  been  taken 
down ;  and  on  this,  now,  a  beautiful  wren-house  perched 
itself  instead,  and  woodbine  climbed  up,  and  hung  long 
wreaths  and  streamers  about  it  to  the  very  top. 

"Suppose  we  do  stop  at  the  House  Beautiful."  said  my 
mother,  "  and  then  keep  on  to  Anniton  to  spend  the 
night?" 

"  Oh,  do,  father !  I  want  to  see  if  Adam  and  Eve  have 
fell  down  yet." 

"  Or  the  apples." 

"  Or  a  bird  ;  or  only  just  a  few  of  the  little  red  berries." 

All  this  we  said  in  one  breath. 

"  I  think  that  great  accident  happened,  once  for  all,  a 
good  many  thousand  years  ago,"  said  my  father.  "  But 
you  should  say  '  fallen,'  not  '  fell.'  " 


WHEN  I   WAS  A   LITTLE   GIRL.  19 

"  Well,  fallen.     Oh,  I  do  hope  they  have  !  " 

"  I  'in  afraid  that 's  a  little  touch  of  the  old  coveting 
serpent,"  said  mother. 

We  were  conscious  of  no  harm,  Jamie  and  I ;  and  I 
don't  think  mother  meant  that  we  were  very  wicked,  af 
ter  all. 

"  Miss  Perie  was  real  good, —  was  n't  she  ?  "  said  Jamie. 

"  And  Miss  Persie  too,"  quoth  I. 

"  It  '11  be  prime  to  go  there  again !  "  That  is  what 
boys  said,  then,  to  express  completeness  of  pleasure.  Now 
it  would  be  "  jolly  "  or  "  bully."  There  are  fashions  of 
slang,  as  of  everything  else. 

"  You  11  stop, —  won't  you,  father  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  we  will,"  said  my  father  ;  and  this  decision 
led  to  a  bit  of  an  adventure,  to  close  this  day,  which  had 
begun,  also,  with  something  very  near  one.  This  is  just 
why  I  have  chosen  this  special  day  to  tell  you  about. 

It  was  half-past  five  when  we  drove  up  in  front  of 
"  Radd's."  It  was  so  the  country  people  spoke,  to  this 
day,  of  what  had  been,  long  ago,  Radd's  Tavern. 

The  ladies  Radd,  Miss  Experience  and  Miss  Persever 
ance,  came  to  the  door.  Miss  Perie  was  altogether  the 
"  old  lady  "  in  her  style  ;  wearing  a  cap  and  a  false  front 
of  little  curls,  with  a  band  of  black  velvet  ambushed 
among  them,  hiding  its  edge,  and  holding  it  on.  Miss 
Persie,  some  years  younger,  kept  to  her  own  natural  front 
of  grayish  locks,  frisee,  and  wore  a  great  many  bows  and 
notched  ends  of  brown  satin  ribbon  about  her  comb,  where 
my  mother  had  the  bows  and  bands  of  her  beautiful  hair. 
But  they  had  placid  and  lovely  faces,  both  of  them  ; 
and  there  was  genial,  honest  gladness  of  welcome  in  them 
now,  as  they  met  us  at  the  steps  of  the  carriage,  and  hast 
ened  us  in. 

"  Now,  this  is  real  clever  of  you,"  said  Miss  Perie.     u  I 


20  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

should  have  took  it  hard  if  you  had  drove  by  without 
stopping." 

"  They  would  n't  have  thought  of  doing  that,  Sister 
Perie,"  said  Miss  Persie,  reproachful  of  the  admission  of 
possibility.  She  had  me  by  the  hand,  leading  me  down 
the  long  hall  to  the  sitting-room  ;  and  with  the  words  she 
suddenly  picked  me  up  by  the  arms,  and  kissed  me. 

"  We  wanted  to  see  Adam  and  Eve,"  said  I  without  a 
bit  of  concealing  tact. 

"  Has  n't  it  tumbled  down  yet  ?  "  cried  Jamie,  eagerly. 

"  No,"  said  Miss  Persie,  laughing  ;  "  but  when  it 
does  "  — 

"  I  'm  to  have  Adam  and  the  horse,"  said  Jamie. 

"  And  I  'm  to  have  Eve  and  the  barberry-bush,"  said  I. 

They  took  us  into  the  sitting-room,  which  was  oak-pan 
eled,  and  had  an  old-fashioned  square  carpet  with  a  bor 
der  on  the  floor,  of  which  it  covered  only  the  middle,  and 
the  dark  oak  boards  shining  beyond  it  like  a  rich  frame 
work.  And  the  wonderful  fireplace  was  there,  set  with 
painted  tiles  ;  wide  and  open,  to  hold  a  generous  blaze  in 
winter,  but  decked  now  with* a  summer  garniture  such 
as  I  never  beheld  elsewhere.  In  the  first  place,  upon  the 
deep  brick  hearth  had  been  placed  garden  earth,  heaped 
and  moulded  into  undulations  of  mound  and  hollow,  —  I 
might  say,  almost  hill  and  dale  ;  on  this  again,  a  covering 
of  bright  green  moss,  carefully  fitted  and  kept  fresh  with 
water ;  bits  of  pine  branch  and'  little  trails  of  winterberry 
vine  diversifying  it ;  and  a  china  shepherdess  with  her 
dog,  and  a  numerous  flock  of  milk-white  sheep,  grouped 
about  among  it  all. 

We  sat  right  down  before  it,  Jamie  and  I,  and  would 
have  found  enough  in  it  to  amuse  us  for  hours,  if  pres 
ently  the  thought  of  Adam  and  Eve  had  not  recurred. 
Miss  Perie  said  she  would  take  us  up  to  see  it  while  Miss 


WHEN  I    WAS  A   LITTLE   GIRL.  21 

Persie  should  lay  the  table  and  put  the  kettle  on  for  tea. 
Their  tea,  good  souls,  had  been  over  and  cleared  away  by 
five. 

Then  we  went,  well  pleased,  up  the  broad  staircase  of 
shallow  steps,  and  trotted  after  Miss  Perie  along  the  gal 
lery  above.  At  the  far  end  she  opened  a  door  into  a 
kind  of  state-chamber,  and  went  in  to  roll  up  the  paper 
shades,  and  set  open  a  blind,  while  Jamie  and  I  stood 
just  within  the  entrance,  trying  to  accustom  our  eyes  to 
the  dimness  of  the  shut-up  room.  Then  suddenly  it  shone 
upon  us,  as  the  light  was  let  in.  Over  the  mantel,  in  a 
great  frame  or  case,  projecting  six  or  seven  inches  and 
glassed  in  front,  and  occupying  the  whole  width  and  half 
the  height  of  the  chimney,  —  the  glory  of  the  old  man 
sion,  —  Adam  and  Eve  in  wax-work,  done  by  Miss  Perie 
and  Miss  Persie  at  a  boarding-school  forty  years  before. 

In  truth,  it  was  a  marvel.  The  whole  right  of  the 
scene  was  occupied  by  forest  trees  and  interlacing  vines, 
made  of  wax  foliage,  fashioned  bit  by  bit,  and  stuck  in 
according  to  the  taste  of  the  artists.  Among  these,  as 
tonishing  birds  in  rare  companionships,  a  robin-redbreast 
and  a  poll-parrot  on  the  same  branch ;  yellow-birds  and 
bluebirds  and  gorgeous  nondescripts  ;  fruits  also,  as  curi 
ously  grouped  ;  crimson  apples  and  pink  peaches,  purple 
grapes  and  golden  oranges.  Then  below,  and  scattered 
throughout  the  whole,  the  animals  :  sheep  in  abundance  ; 
cows  ;  goats,  —  much  like  the  sheep,  with  the  addition  of 
horns  ;  hens  and  chickens ;  a  cat,  a  dog,  a  lion,  and  a 
leopard  ;  and  a  green  snake  lying  in  the  grass.  Close  by 
Adam,  a  red-brown  horse,  with  enormous  tail  and  mane. 
But  above  all,  there  were  Adam  and  Eve !  Two  little 
wax  figures  like  dolls  !  Eve's  light,  flossy  hair  —  of  silk, 
or  real,  I  don't  know  which  —  hanging  in  waves  about 
her,  nearly  enveloping  her  ;  her  face  turned  toward  us 


22  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

and  away  from  Adam,  who  stood  beyond,  slightly  turned 
away  also  ;  perhaps  there  had  been  already  a  little  paradi 
siacal  tiff.  At  Eve's  feet,  the  barberry-bush  with  its  glow 
ing  pendules  of  scarlet  berries  ;  this  was  what  I  coveted. 

We  stood  in  breathless  delight  and  awe  before  it ;  it 
was  minutes  before  we  spoke.  Then  Jamie  said,  timidly, 
"  I  wonder  if  it  ever  will  tumble  down  !  " 

"  Perhaps  if  we  were  to  jump  "  —  whispered  I. 

"  That  would  n't  be  fair  !  "  said  the  boy,  with  a  proud, 
indignant  honor  in  his  tone.  I  shrank  back  abashed. 

We  looked,  and  looked,  and  drew  long  breaths  of  relief 
now  and  then  ;  and  pretty  soon  Miss  Perie  said,  "  Now 
we  will  go  and  see  the  peacock." 

So  she  led  us,  down  three  steps,  into  a  narrow  passage 
diverging  from  the  first,  and  along  this  till  we  came  to  a 
tiny  door  in  an  angle  of  the  wall,  —  a  bit  of  a  door  just 
wide  enough  to  pass  through,  and  so  low  that  Miss  Perie 
had  to  stoop.  This  led  upon  a  flight  of  ten  narrow  steps, 
which  brought  us  up  into  a  little  railed  balcony  with  a 
recessed  alcove  at  the  back,  and  looking  down  in  front 
into  a  long,  empty  hall,  —  the  ball-room  of  the  old  inn. 
This  that  we  were  in  was  the  musicians'  gallery.  Back 
in  the  alcove  stood  what  we  came  to  see,  —  a  magnificent 
stuffed  peacock,  with  very  full  and  perfect  tail  at  its 
utmost  spread.  No  live  bird  ever  did  as  much  for  me, 
as  I  said  before  ;  and  I  doubt  if  any  live  bird  ever  had 
such  a  tail  to  spread,  which  accounts  for  it. 

It  was  like  a  dream  or  a  fairy  story,  —  this  queer  old 
house  with  its  curious  things,  and  its  many  rooms,  its 
steps  up  and  steps  down,  and  unexpected  doors,  and  little 
galleries  and  "  cubbies."  We  believed  that  there  were 
scores  of  wonders  within  its  walls  yet  unrevealed.  But 
we  were  satisfied  with  Adam  and  Eve  and  the  peacock. 
Then  we  went  down  and  had  a  race  in  the  great,  empty 


WHEN  I   WAS  A   LITTLE   GIRL.  23 

ball-room.  Something  of  the  old  merriment  that  had 
clung  to  its  walls  when  grandmothers  were  young,  touched 
and  inspired  us,  and  we  frolicked  up  and  down  in  pure 
glee  of  space  and  freedom,  till  we  heard  the  tinkle  of  a 
bell  at  the  foot  of  the  great  stairs. 

"  That 's  tea,"  said  Miss  Perie  ;  and  we  went  down. 

It  was  tea,  and  a  great  many  things  beside.  Brown 
bread  and  white  bread,  and  butter,  raspberries  and  cream, 
plum-cake,  and  gingerbread,  and  doughnuts. 

It  was  after  seven  when  we  had  finished,  and  were 
bidding  Miss  Perie  and  Miss  Persie  good-by.  We  had 
eight  miles  to  go  to  Anniton  ;  and  in  the  west,  where  we 
had  trusted  to  the  long  twilight  and  the  young  moon, 
there  was  a  dark  cloud  that  rolled  itself  into  great,  bil 
lowy  edges,  and  kept  swelling  up  the  sky.  We  had  had 
candles  in  the  sitting-room,  which  was  shaded  by  thick 
lilac  bushes  close  to  the  windows,  and  we  had  not  guessed 
at  this. 

"  Oh  James  !  "  cried  my  mother,   "  look  there  !  " 

"You'd  better  stay  all  night,"  said  Miss  Perie. 

"  Oh  no,  we  're  obliged  to  you,"  said  my  father.  "  It 
will  go  round,  quite  likely.  We  had  better  keep  on." 

Mother  looked  at  him  again,  and  hesitated  before  she 
put  her  foot  on  the  carriage-step.  She  never  said  so  be 
fore  us,  but  we  knew  quite  well  that  she  was  afraid  of 
thunder. 

"  It  is  only  a  wind-cloud,  I  think,"  said  father. 

"  You  will  stop  if  it  comes  on  to  —  storm  ?  "  she  said, 
still  hesitating. 

"  Oh  yes,  we  '11  get  under  cover  somewhere.  It  won't 
amount  to  much." 

And  so  we  started.  But  before  we  crossed  the  Moonick 
bridge,  and  came  into  the  woods  that  lay  beyond,  a  little 
quivering  thread  of  lightning  ran  down  the  black  curtain 


24  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

of  cloud,  a  few  drops  fell  from  its  upper  fringe,  and  our 
adventure  began.  There  was  a  mile  of  woods  before  we 
sbould  come  out  into  the  open  road,  and  as  much  more 
distance  to  the  nearest  dwellings.  The  wind  freshened, 
and  the  black  cloud  surged  up  higher  —  faster.  Father 
urged  on  his  horses,  and  mother  leaned  back  in  her  corner, 
and  never  spoke  a  word.  In  the  heart  of  the  wood  we 
were  in  complete  darkness.  Father  gave  the  horses  their 
heads,  and  they  kept  the  road.  I  could  hear  mother's 
quick  breath,  and  feel  a  tremble  of  her  hand  as  she  held 
mine.  Suddenly,  on  before  us,  straight  down  across  the 
opening  between  the  trees,  shot  a  bolt  of  pale,  intense 
purple  fire  :  and  crashing,  rolling,  splitting,  hissing,  all  in 
one  mingled  sound,  came  the  thunder-burst.  The  horses 
paused,  half-reared,  and  then  sprang  on  ;  but  my  father 
held  them  firmly  by  the  curb,  and  they  quieted  again,  — 
quieted  to  a  safe  but  very  rapid  trot,  which  in  a  few 
hushed,  fearful  minutes  brought  us  out  into  comparative 
light.  Then  the  rain  came  down  in  great  drops.  Father 
drew  up  the  boot,  which  he  had  unbuckled  when  the  first 
sprinkle  fell.  Mother  wrapped  a  shawl  around  me,  and  did 
not  let  me  go  when  she  had  done  it,  but  held  me  tight  in 
her  arms. 

"  Jamie  had  better  come  back  here,"  she  said,  speaking 
for  the  first  time,  with  something  very  strange  in  her 
voice.  Father  knew  what  it  meant. 

"  There  's  a  little  farm-house  along  here  somewhere,  in 
the  edge  of  Rundell ;  we  can  reach  it  in  a  few  minutes, 
and  perhaps  they  '11  take  us  in,"  he  said. 

Jamie  climbed  in  over  the  back  of  the  front  seat,  and 
we  sat  huddled  together,  —  all  three.  There  came  no 
more  such  terrific  bursts,  but  the  lightning  flashed  in 
broad  sheets  at  quickening  intervals,  and  the  thunder 
rolled  in  almost  continuous  accompaniment.  We  could 
see  our  road  quite  plainly  now. 


WHEN  I    WAS  A    LITTLE   GIRL.  25 

"  Jacobs  told  me  the  truth  in  recommending  these 
horses,"  said  my  father,  in  a  cheery  way,  drawing  the 
boot-leather  higher  toward  his  shoulders.  "  They  will 
stand  almost  anything." 

And  then  we  said  nothing  more,  but  watched  with  daz 
zled  eyes  the  flashes,  and  heard  the  rain-streams  pour  like 
shot  upon  the  carriage-roof.  Ten  minutes  of  this  glare 
and  dash  and  silence  brought  us  to  a  little  long,  low,  red 
house  on  a  grass  slope  by  the  roadside.  Father  turned 
the  horses  right  up  to  the  door,  and  gave  one  stroke  with 
his  whip-handle  upon  it.  A  woman  opened  it,  —  her  hus 
band  and  three  children  following  her,  and  looking  from 
behind  to  see  Avho  came. 

"  Can  you  "  —  began  my  father. 

"  Land's  sake,  yes  !  "  cried  the  woman.  "  Come  right 
along  in.  Jeb,  open  the  kerridge  door,  and  then  help 
round  with  the  bosses  to  the  barn.  Enoch,  fetch  the  lan 
tern  ! " 

The  oldest  boy  went  to  obey  ;  and  the  farmer  opened 
the  door  and  let  down  the  steps.  I  jumped  right  into  his 
arms.  Then  came  mother,  very  pale,  and  quite  ex 
hausted.  As  for  Jamie,  he  had  scrambled  over  the  front 
seat  again,  to  come  out  from  his  proper  place  like  a 
man. 

We  had  never  been  in  a  house  like  this  before.  It 
was  a  contrast  to  the  House  Beautiful,  yet  it  had  its 
charms.  Jamie  said  it  was  prime  fun.  They  wanted  to 
set  a  tea-table  for  us,  but  we  assured  them  we  had  had 
our  tea  an  hour  before,  and  could  not  eat.  But  the 
farmer  would  bring  up  a  pitcher  of  strong  cider,  and  his 
wife  produced  a  plate  of  the  inevitable  doughnuts.  Just 
to  gratify  them,  we  tasted  ;  and  then  we  children  begged 
to  be  put  to  bed,  partly  from  real  weariness,  partly  be 
cause  we  were  impatient  for  the  fun  of  it. 


26  HOMESPUN  YARNS. 

"  Anything  will  do ;  a  shake-down  in  the  same  room 
with  us,"  said  father. 

"  Oh,  there  's  plenty  of  room,"  replied  the  hostess,  in 
the  pride  of  her  hospitality.  "  The  little  folks  can  have 
the  eave-garrets,  and  our  boys  can  go  into  the  shed-cham 
ber.  Kuthie  can  come  down  and  sleep  in  the  cot." 

Mother  let  her  arrange  it  in  her  own  way  ;  and  pres 
ently,  to  our  great  delight,  we  were  ushered  up  a  broad, 
bare  stairway  of  clean  unpainted  boards,  into  the  middle 
space  under  the  house-roof.  On  each  side  were  the  "  eave- 
garrets," —  two  nice  little  tidy  bedrooms  made  up  fresh 
for  us  with  coarse,  but  very  white,  sheets  and  pillow-beers, 
as  the  good  woman  called  them. 

There  was  a  savory  smell  of  thyme  and  lavender  and 
pennyroyal  and  all  sorts  of  herbs,  drying  in  the  open 
room,  mingled  with  the  odor  of  the  clean  rough  boards 
and  rafters  also,  that  had  baked  under  the  summer  suns 
for  years  and  years. 

Mother  tucked  us  in,  and  heard  us  say  our  prayers ; 
and  then  went  down  to  her  own  room,  which  was  only  just 
at  the  foot  of  the  broad,  short  stairway.  She  left  her 
door  open,  and  we  all  seemed  close  together.  Jamie  and 
I  talked  across  for  a  long  time  about  what  there  might  be 
in  the  open  garret  that  lay  between  us,  and  how  far  it 
went,  and  where  it  led  to.  We  made  up  quite  a  story 
about  it,  in  the  middle  of  which,  at  last,  we  fell  asleep. 

Well  —  that  was  our  adventure.  We  thought  it  quite  a 
considerable  one.  The  morning  sun  came  up  grand  and 
glorious,  and  shone  into  the  great  garret  in  little  slender 
lines  of  light,  here  and  there,  between  the  boards  and  raf 
ters.  And  it  was  very  still,  after  the  rain-music  to  which 
we  had  slept  and  dreamed.  We  wondered  if  father  and 
mother  and  the  horses  were  up.  Very  soon  we  were 
down-stairs,  looking  out  at  the  open  door  upon  the  green 


WHEN  I   WAS  A   LITTLE   GIRL.  27 

slope,  where  every  blade  was  strung  with  shining  drops. 
There  were  ducks  and  chickens  about,  and  the  horses  were 
being  curried  at  the  barn-door.  There  was  a  breakfast  of 
hot  cakes,  and  maple  syrup,  and  fried  pork  and  eggs,  and 
potatoes,  and  doughnuts  ;  and  by  seven  o'clock,  after  many 
thanks  and  "  welcomes,"  we  were  on  our  way.  At  twelve, 
coming  to  the  top  of  a  hill,  just  at  the  end  of  our  jour 
ney,  we  spied  grandpa's  old  chaise  turning  into  the  green 
lane  at  the  bottom ;  and  as  he  got  out  at  the  barn,  our 
horses  trotted  up  to  the  door.  So  we  got  safely,  at  last, 
to  Ridgeley.  But  the  time  we  had  at  Ridgeley  would  be 
a  story  of  itself. 

It  occurs  to  me  just  to  mention  this  before  I  finish. 
Years  afterward,  when  we  were  man  and  woman,  and 
Jamie  and  his  wife  and  little  child,  and  I  and  my  hus 
band  and  our  little  David  and  Dolly,  were  all  at  the  old 

home  in  V Street  to  spend  Christmas,  and  I  was 

toasting  Baby  Susie's  feet  before  the  fire,  and  telling  her 
"  this  little  pig  and  that  little  pig,"  there  came  a  great  ring 
at  the  door,  such  as  express-men  and  telegraph-boys  and 
people  after  the  doctor  only  give,  and  presently  word  was 
brought  up  to  us  of  something  that  had  come  "  in  a  big 
box."  I  rolled  all  the  little  pigs  up  in  Susie's  crimson 
flannel  nightgown,  and  popped  her  into  nurse's  lap,  and 
Jamie  and  Mrs.  Jamie  and  I  ran  down  to  see. 

A  great  case  of  boards  had  come  by  railroad,  with  this 
curious  address  :  — 

"To  THE  CHILDREN  OF  JAMES  THORNELL,  ESQ., 

"V STREET, 

«B ." 

Inside  the  lid  was  a  letter,  explaining.  It  was  a  bequest 
to  Jamie  and  me.  Miss  Perie  and  Miss  Persie  were  dead, 
and  this  was  Adam  and  Eve, 


MY  MOTHER  PUT  IT  ON. 

IT  was  old  Boston  —  Boston  fifty  years  or  so  ago  — 
and  it  was  New  Year's  morning. 

Since  June  we  had  lived  in  our  new  house  in  one  of 
the  lately  laid-out,  airy  neighborhoods  over  on  the  West 
Hill.  Before  that,  we  lived  in  Pearl  street,  where  all  the 
great  warehouses  are  now,  and  where  the  other  great 
warehouses  were  hurned  down, —  melted  into  strange, 
stone  monuments  of  ruin, —  in  the  terrible  fire,  a  dozen 
years  ago.  Down  in  Pearl  street,  in  a  large  house  with 
a  garden  to  it,  and  a  wonderful  staircase  inside  that 
had  landings  with  balustraded  arches  through  to  other 
landings,  and  which  was  a  sublimity  and  delight  to  me 
that  the  splendid  stairways  in  Roman  palaces  can  scarcely 
equal  now, —  still  lived  my  best  and  beautiful  friend, 
Elizabeth  Hunter.  I  thought  in  those  days  all  Elizabeths 
were  beautiful,  because  I  knew  two  who  had  fair,  delicious 
complexions,  sweet,  deep-cornered  mouths,  and  brown 
hair.  My  hair  was  light  and  straight  and  fine  ;  it  looked 
thin  and  cold  to  me  by  the  side  of  theirs. 

On  this  New  Year,  I  was  to  go  and  spend  the  day  with 
Elizabeth.  My  father  and  my  brother  Andrew  were  to 
come  to  dinner.  My  mother  was  an  invalid,  and  could 
not  bear  the  cold  and  the  fatigue.  But  she  had  my  pretty 
dress  all  ready  for  me,  a  soft,  blue  merino  —  real  deep- 
sky  blue, —  with  trimming  to  the  tucks  and  hem  and  low 
neck-band  and  sleeve-bindings  of  dark  carbuncle-colored 
velvet  ribbon  in  a  raised  Greek  pattern.  You  may  think 


MY  MOTHER  PUT  IT   ON.  29 

it  looked  queer ;  but  it  did  n't ;  it  was  very  pretty  and 
becoming. 

Before  I  was  to  go,  however,  there  was  ever  so  much 
other  New  Year  delight  to  keep  the  time  from  seeming 
long.  Father  and  Andrew  were  going  down  to  the  whip- 
factory  in  Dock  square,  to  choose  for  Andrew  the  long 
est-lashed  toy  whip,  with  the  gayest  snapper  and  the  hand 
somest  handle,  that  he  could  pick  out  there.  And  afterward 
they  were  going  to  a  great  toy-shop,  to  buy  me  the  wax 
dell  I  had  been  promised. 

I  did  not  care  to  choose  my  doll,  as  Andrew  would 
choose  his  whip.  I  had  a  kind  of  real  little-mother  feel 
ing  about  that.  I  would  rather  have  what  came  to  me ; 
what  my  father  brought  me.  I  wanted  it  to  be  mine  from 
the  first  minute  I  saw  it,  without  any  doubt,  or  any  chance 
to  choose  otherwise.  If  I  had  looked  and  hesitated  among 
dozens  of  them,  and  picked  out  one,  I  should  always  have 
felt  as  if  I  had  left  some  child  behind  that  maybe  ought 
to  have  been  mine,  and  that  I  had  not  quite  ivhole  chosen 
any  one.  So  I  was  content  to  stay  with  my  mother,  and 
run  down  from  her  with  the  quarter  and  half  dollars  to 
the  watchman  and  the  carrier  and  the  scavenger  and  the 
milkman,  when  they  came  with  their  expectation  of  a  lit 
tle  present.  What  dear  old  simple  days  those  were,  when 
we  had  a  family  regard  for  our  milkman,  our  watchman, 
our  scavenger ! 

Meanwhile,  I  was  to  be  dressed. 

I  had  just  got  on  my  blue  morocco  slippers,  that  looked 
so  funny  with  my  striped  dark  calico  morning-frock,  when 
the  bell,  that  I  thought  I  had  done  answering  with  the  sil 
ver  fees,  rang  loudly  again.  Marcella,  our  housemaid, 
called  me  from  the  foot  of  the  nursery  stairs. 

'•  It 's  somebody  for  you,  Miss  P^mmeline,"  she  said,  and 
I  thought  she  meant  another  man  for  money.  I  took  the 


80  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

last  quarter  from  the  little  wallet  father  had  filled  for  me, 
and  ran  down.  But  it  was  the  tall  black  servant  from  the 
Hunters'.  And  he  had  in  his  hand  a  pretty  paper  box 
tied  with  a  silk  cord. 

"  Mrs.  Hunter's  compliments  and  love,  miss,  to  you  and 
to  your  ma ;  and  she  hopes  you  '11  wear  something  she  has 
made  for  you  just  like  Miss  Elizabeth's  to-day." 

I  took  the  box,  made  a  little  courtesy  to  him,  and  said, 
"  Please  thank  Mrs.  Hunter,  and  say  I  wish  her  a  happy 
New  Year,  and  here  's  a  happy  New  Year  for  you."  For 
I  thought  he  could  n't  help  seeing  the  silver  quarter,  and 
thinking  it  was  for  him  ;  and  father  had  told  me  to  "  use 
my  judgment,"  and  I  certainly  wanted  to  give  it  to  him 
the  minute  I  saw  he  had  come  all  the  way  with  a  present 
for  me.  Elizabeth  and  I  liked  Jefferson  very  much  ;  he 
gave  us  macaroons  and  prunes  and  almonds  from  the  pan 
try,  and  he  swung  us  in  the  swing  in  the  great  dvying- 
room.  He  made  me  a  fine  bow,  and  thanked  me,  and  said 
he  should  keep  my  quarter  for  luck. 

So  I  ran  up  to  my  mother  and  kissed  her, —  for  some 
how  whenever  anything  pleasant  came  to  me  I  always 
kissed  my  mother, —  and  we  opened  the  box.  It  was  a 
beautiful  blue  silk  braid  net,  with  a  long  blue  ribbon  run 
through  to  tie  it  round  the  head  with. 

"  Oh-  mother !  "  I  cried,  "  it 's  a  long  ribbon,  for  flying 
ends  !  "  I  was  so  glad  ;  for  I  had  no  curls  like  Elizabeth's, 
and  I  thought  flying  ribbons  would  seem  like  them  a  lit 
tle,  and  I  had  never  worn  any. 

"It  is  very  pretty,"  said  my  mother;  "but  I  think, 
dear,  with  your  short  hair,  a  short  bow  would  look 
better." 

She  did  not  tell  me  that  my  face  was  narrow  and  my 
nose  was  long,  and  that  I  could  n't  possibly  look  like  Eliz 
abeth  Hunter,  even  with  flying  ends.  I  know  it  now,  as 


MY  MOTHER  PUT  IT  ON.  31 

I  have  found  out  a  good  many  things  that  I  did  n't  under 
stand  at  the  time. 

I  was  disappointed,  too  disappointed  to  say  anything ; 
and  before  I  spoke,  mother,  who  had  put  the  net  over  my 
hair  and  drawn  the  ribbon,  tied  a  butterfly  bow  with  it 
over  my  left  ear,  and  snipped  the  ends  into  short  dove 
tails  with  her  small  bright  toilet  scissors. 

I  choked  a  little  in  my  throat,  and  the  tears  came  into 
my  eyes. 

"  Did  you  care  so  much  ?  "  asked  mother  tenderly,  and 
kissed  me  again.  u  But  it  is  a  great  deal  prettier  for  you 
so  ;  trust  me,  dear." 

I  did  not  speak  then,  for  I  couldn't;  but  I  tried  to 
swallow  the  choke  and  the  tears  ;  mother,  who  was  always 
kind,  had  been  so  dearly  kind  to  me  that  day.  And  An 
drew  came  running  up  the  stairs  just  then  and  bounced  in 
at  the  door  ;  and  there  was  my  dear  wax-baby  in  his  arms, 
and  I  was  a  happy  little  mother ;  and  what  happy  little 
mother,  with  her  baby  born  on  New  Year's  morning,  cares 
how  her  cap  is  tied  ? 

The  baby  was  dressed  in  a  pretty  white  slip  and  a  bib ; 
and  there  was  a  blanket  with  pink  scalloped  edges,  to 
wrap  it  in. 

"  There  were  dollies  a  good  deal  older,  and  some  all 
grown  up,"  said  Andrew ;  "  but  father  thought  you  'd 
want  to  have  it  a  real  baby,  and  let  it  grow.  And  it 
opens  and  shuts  its  eyes.  See  here  !  There  !  it 's  gone 
to  sleep.  And  now^look  at  my  whip  !  "  He  pulled  it  out 
from  under  his  arm,  whence  it  trailed  behind  him,  and 
cracked  it  gloriously  with  its  yellow  snappers,  right  over 
my  baby's  head. 

"  Oh  And  !  Be  careful !  Give  her  right  to  me.  Boys 
don't  know  how  to  tend  babies,  you  know.  But  you  're 
real  good  ;  and  your  whip  is  splendid  !  " 


32  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

"  Guess  I  am  !  Brought  her  right  straight  along,  and 
did  n't  care  a  mite,  and  three  boys  hollered  after  me, 
'  'Fore  I  'd  be  a  girl  and  carry  a  rag-baby !  '  I  just  kept 
her  with  one  hand  and  cracked  my  whip  with  the  other, 
and  looked  right  ahead,  as  if  they  was  n't  anywhere  !  " 

I  put  my  arms  round  his  neck,  and  hugged  him  and 
the  baby  and  the  whip  all  together ;  for  my  Andie  always 
was  a  hero,  and  loved  me.  He  brought  me  my  greatest 
gift  pleasures,  and  my  happiest  surprises.  Father  always 
took  him  into  the  plan,  if  Andie  had  n't  already  begged  it 
for  me,  —  whenever  there  was  one.  I  think  our  parents 
had  that  notion  about  son  and  daughter,  and  what  the 
little  man  and  woman  should  be  to  each  other.  Mother 
used  to  set  me  to  do  all  the  little  cheery,  comfortable 
home  things  for  Andie.  Andie  brought  me  my  wax  doll 
when  I  was  seven  years  old ;  he  walked  down  to  Jones's 
with  father,  the  day  I  was  seventeen,  and  brought  me  home 
my  real  gold  watch.  I  always  mended  Andie's  stockings 
after  I  was  old  enough,  —  and  quite  little  girls  were  old 
enough  in  those  days ;  and  I  made  pan-ginger  bread  for 
his  supper  when  he  was  coming  home  cold  from  coasting 
on  the  Common ;  and  I  read  to  him  when  he  was  sick 
with  sore  throat,  and  saved  money  to  fill  his  bag  with 
white  alleys  when  marble-time  came  round.  Andie  and 
I  used  to  promise  never  to  get  married,  but  to  keep  house 
with  each  other  when  we  were  grown  up.  I  have  never 
got  married  ;  but  Andie  has  been  lying  in  the  gray  stone 
tomb  at  Mount  Auburn  for  thirty  years. 

My  mother  hurried  me  a  little  now ;  for  Marcella  was 
ready. 

We  walked  down  across  the  Common,  Marcella  and  I ; 
she  was  to  leave  me  at  the  door.  There  was  a  biting 
wind,  with  snow-needles  in  it ;  and  the  path  was  deep 
with  half-trodden  snow;  but  I  was  warm  in  my  cloth 


MY  MOTHER   PUT  IT   ON.  33 

pelisse  with  gray  fur  cape  and  border,  —  my  quilted  bon 
net  edged  with  fur.  and  my  thick  little  moccasins  with 
gray  fur  round  the  ankles. 

I  was  perfectly  happy  till  Mrs.  Hunter  unfastened  my 
things  by  the  large  parlor  fire,  and  lifted  off  my  bonnet 
carefully. 

Elizabeth,  with  her  dimpled  face,  her  sweet-set  mouth, 
her  brown  curls,  among  which  the  long  blue  ribbon  floated, 
—  for  the  net  was  a  mere  matter  of  ornament,  and  lay 
light  and  loose  over  the  hair,  held  only  by  the  ribbon 
band  simply  tied  at  the  left  temple,  —  was  standing  by, 
impatient  to  get  me  out  and  begin  our  day. 

"Why,  where  are  the  long  ends?"  she  said.  And 
then  I  immediately  felt  as  if  all  there  was  of  me  was  that 
one  little,  short-cropped  butterfly  bow. 

"  Mother  thought  "  —  I  began,  and  there  stopped.  My 
lips  trembled  a  little,  and  I  blushed  hot. 

Mrs.  Hunter  looked  sorry.  "  Was  she  quite  particu 
lar  ?  "  she  asked,  after  an  instant.  "  Because  I  have  an 
other  ribbon.  Just  for  to-day,  perhaps,  because  you  like 
to  be  like  Lizzie  ?  —  It  would  be  a  pity  not  to  please  the 
child,"  she  said  to  Mrs.  Marchand,  her  sister,  who  was 
there.  She  was  drawing  the  blue  ribbon  from  her  pretty, 
round,  carved  work-table,  and  she  put  out  her  hand  to 
untie  my  little  bow. 

Then  it  came  over  me.  I  started  back.  "  Please  !  No  ! 
Please  not,  Mrs.  Hunter.  Thank  you  —  a  great  deal  "  — 
I  stammered,  in  a  hurry,  and  afraid  I  was  dreadfully  im 
polite, —  '•  but  mother  put  it  on!  " 

I  would  n't  have  had  that  bow  with  the  dovetailed  ends 
untied  that  minute,  for  all  the  world. 

A  singular  expression,  I  thought,  passed  between  the 
faces  of  the  two  ladies.  Mrs.  Hunter  leaned  down  from 
her  chair,  reached  my  hand,  drew  me  to  her  again,  and 
3 


34  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

kissed  me.  "  You  are  a  dear  little  thing,"  she  said  to 
me.  "  The  little  souls  know  best,"  she  said  to  her  sister. 

"When  the  little  souls  are  "  —but  Mrs.  Marchand  did 
not  say  what. 

I  wondered  why  Mrs.  Hunter,  while  she  praised  me,  — 
but  it  was  not  praise  either ;  it  was  better  than  that,  — 
should  have  looked  as  if  she  pitied  me  so.  I  could  n't 
think  it  was  for  the  sake  of  the  ribbon.  No,  indeed  :  I 
know  now  what  it  was. 

We  had  a  beautiful  time.  Of  course  I  had  brought 
my  baby,  and  I  secretly  thought  it  was  a  great  deal  cun- 
ninger  and  prettier  than  Elizabeth's,  that  she  had  had 
ever  since  her  last  birthday,  and  that  really  looked  quite 
old  and  common  to  me  now,  though  she  had  kept  it  so 
nice,  and  I  had  admired  it  so. 

Father  and  Andrew  came  to  dinner  ;  and  after  dinner 
we  had  forfeits,  and  Hunt  the  Ring,  and  Magical  Music, 
and  Still  Palm.  There  were  three  other  children  who 
came  to  spend  the  afternoon. 

I  was  very  happy.  There  was  a  hidden  corner  in  my 
heart  that  kept  warming  up  every  now  and  then,  as  if 
mother  and  I  had  a  secret  together,  and  we  were  whis 
pering  it  to  each  other  across  the  wide,  cold  city.  Eliza 
beth's  pretty  hair  and  long  blue  ribbons  flew  this  way  and 
that  in  the  merry  play  and  running ;  and  I  noticed  them 
just  as  I  always  had,  and  I  knew  that  there  was  nothing 
pretty  about  my  short,  plain,  light-colored  hair,  and  I  did 
think  that  flying  ends  would  have  been  a  comfort  if  I 
could  have  had  them  in  the  first  place ;  but  there  was 
something  beyond  comfort  in  the  loyalty  of  wearing  that 
butterfly  bow  which  nobody  need  touch  or  try  to  change 
for  me,  since  —  because  she  thought  it  best  for  me  to 
wear  it  so  —  my  mother  had  put  it  on  ! 

I  ran  straight  up  to  her  dressing-room  the  minute  we 


MY  MOTHER  PUT  IT   ON.  35 

got  home.  She  sat  there  in  her  white  flannel  wrapper 
hefore  the  fire.  I  threw  my  arms  around  her  and  laid 
my  head  down  on  her  lap. 

"  Now  untie  the  little  bow,"  I  said  ;  and  she  asked  : 
"  Did  my  little  girl  wear  it  all  the  day  for  my  sake  ?  " 

She  understood.  We  had  been  whispering  to  each 
other's  thought  across  all  the  cold,  wide  city. 

"  Mother,"  I  asked  her,  after  I  said  my  prayers,  and 
before  I  said  good-night,  "  why  did  I  have  such  a  Rocky- 
Mountain  kind  of  a  face  ?  Why  could  n't  God  have 
given  me  a  pretty,  flat  face  ?  Can  you  tell  ?  " 

"  God  did  n't  see  best  to  make  you  handsome,  dear ; 
but  He  will  make  you  beautiful,  if  you  will  let  Him,  his 
own  way.  And  I  don't  think,"  she  added,  more  lightly, 
and  laughing  a  sweet  laugh,  "  that  my  Emmie's  face 
could  be  a  flat  one  !  It  would  n't  suit  her  at  all ;  and  I 
love  this  a  great  deal  better  !  " 

When  I  was  seventeen  years  old,  my  mother  had  been 
dead  eight  years.  I  had  a  step-mother. 

That  was  horrible,  you  think  ?     Wait  till  you  hear. 

When  my  father  —  a  graver,  silenter,  but  not  less  kind 
and  gentle  man  —  brought  home  at  last  this  lady,  as 
truly,  I  think,  for  our  sakes  as  his  own,  he  called  us  to 
them  both  as  they  sat  together  on  the  long  velvet  sofa  in 
the  library.  I  remember  the  moment,  and  the  look  of 
everything  as  if  it  were  just  now.  It  was  a  September  mid 
day  ;  they  had  been  married  in  church,  and  we  had  all 
come  straight  home  ;  there  was  no  company,  —  "  this  day 
was  for  themselves  and  the  children,"  —  and  dinner  was 
going  on,  almost  just  as  usual,  in  the  dining-room  beyond. 

The  lady,  whom  we  had  seen  but  few  times,  —  her 
home  had  been  at  a  distance  in  the  country,  —  was 
dressed  in  a  plain  violet  silk ;  and  now  her  bonnet  was 


36  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

off,  her  dark  hair  looked  homelike  and  simple,  just  parted 
away  over  her  low,  pleasant  forehead  and  twisted  richly 
behind  ;  and  her  face  —  I  never  forget  that  about  it  — 
was  watching  the  door  when  we  came  in. 

My  father  said  to  me,  being  the  girl  and  the  oldest, 
"  Emmeline,  I  hope  you  will  be  the  happier  for  this  day, 
and  I  believe  you  will,  from  this  day  forward  as  long  as 
you  and  my  wife  shall  live."  He  fell,  unpremeditatedly, 
into  the  words  of  the  Solemn  Service  that  had  been 
spoken  over  them  ;  it  was  as  if  he  had  married  us  two,  in 
our  new  relation,  to  each  other. 

He  said  to  Andrew,  "  My  boy  knows  what  men  owe 
to  women ;  he  and  I  must  do  our  best  and  manliest  for 
these  two.  We  four  are  a  family  now." 

The  new  wife  stretched  out  a  hand  to  each  of  us.  She 
slipped  her  arm  round  me,  and  drew  me  to  her  side,  while 
she  held  Andrew's  hand  upon  her  knee.  The  face  that 
looked  into  mine  was  very  wistful  and  kind ;  it  almost 
seemed  to  beseech  something  of  me.  It  asked  leave  to 
be  loving. 

We  children  did  not  know  what  to  say.  I  felt  uneasy 
not  to  speak  at  all.  I  believe  I  smiled  a  little,  shyly. 
Then  I  asked : 

"  What  shall  I  call  you,  please  ?  " 

"What  shall  they  call  you,  Lucy?"  asked  my  father. 

"  Call  me  '  step-mamma,'  "  was  the  answer ;  and  I  think 
he  was  utterly  surprised. 

"  I  will  not  take  their  mother's  name  away,"  she  said. 
"  I  will  not  be  instead  of  her.  I  will  be  called  just  what  I 
want  to  be  ;  a  step,  a  link,  between  her  and  them.  I  will 
try  to  do  for  her  what  she  would  have  done  if  she  had 
stayed." 

"Then  I  think  I'll  call  you  '  For-mamma,' "  said 
straight-spoken  Andrew.  "I  think  that  will  do  very 
well." 


MY  MOTHER  PUT  IT   ON.  37 

We  all  laughed  ;  and  it  relieved  the  feeling.  "  Thank 
you,  Andrew,"  said  our  step-mamma.  "  That  is  a  great 
help  at  the  very  beginning.  I  believe  we  shall  under 
stand  each  other." 

For  my  part  I  only  kissed  her.  By  the  way  she  kissed 
me  back,  I  knew  it  was  her  first  act  "  for  "  my  mother. 

So  we  began  to  love  her,  and  we  called  her  "  step-mam 
ma."  People  thought  it  very  odd,  and  we  never  explained 
it  to  them.  We  let  our  relation  explain  itself.  But  among 
ourselves,  the  familiar,  privileged,  lovely  name  was  "  For- 
mamma."  That  we  kept  this  sign  through  so  many  years, 
—  the  years  of  our  troublesome,  probative  childhood, — 
tells  more  than  any  story  of  the  years  could  tell. 

I  only  wanted  to  say  a  little  bit  of  what  she  was  to  me 
at  seventeen  ;  and  how  my  mother's  very  words  came 
again  to  me  through  her,  as  by  an  accepted  mediation. 

I  went  with  her  to  a  large  party ;  my  very  first  large 
grown-up  party. 

My  old  friend,  Elizabeth  Hunter,  was  a  bride  this  win 
ter.  I  had  been  bridesmaid  at  her  wedding :  that  was  the 
beginning  of  my  corning  out,  earlier  than  I  should  other 
wise  have  done. 

What  a  plain  little  bridesmaid  I  had  been,  to  what  an 
exquisite  vision  of  a  bride  !  I  remember  thinking,  as  we, 
the  bridal  party,  walked  through  the  long  rooms,  when  all 
was  gay,  and  ceremony  was  bi'oken  through  at  supper- 
time  —  when  the  rooms  rustled  with  the  turning  of  the 
groups  to  look  after  her  and  the  murmur  went  along  about 
her  beauty  —  "  What  difference  ought  it  to  make,  that  she 
is  the  beauty,  and  that  I  can  never  be, —  so  long  as  the 
beauty  is  and  we  all  feel  it?  "  Yet  the  strange  difference 
was  there,  and  the  cross  of  my  beauty-loving  nature  was 
that  I,  in  my  own  being  and  movement,  could  never  hold 
and  represent  it. 


38  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

I  looked  at  myself  when  I  had  dressed  for  this  large 
party.  The  lovely  blue  silk  —  the  delicate  lace  —  the 
white  roses  —  they  almost  achieved  prettiness  enough  of 
themselves ;  and  I  suppose  I  looked  as  nice  as  I  could ; 
but  there  were  still  the  too  prominent  brows,  the  nose  too 
big  for  the  eyes,  the  lips  too  easily  parted  over  the  teeth, 
fine  and  white,  but  contributing  to  the  excess  of  profile,  or 
middle-face,  that  had  made  me  call  it  Rocky-Mountain 
outline  when  I  was  a  child. 

I  went  down  to  my  step-mamma's  room.  She,  in  her 
ruby-colored  satin,  was  fairer  at  thirty-eight  than  I  at 
seventeen.  I  sat  watching  her  as  she  put  pearl  earrings 
into  her  ears. 

"  For-mamma,"  I  said,  "  I  don't  believe  I  shall  ever 
care  much  for  parties.  And  it  will  be  for  a  very  mean 
and  selfish  reason,  too.  I  think  it  is  only  pretty  people 
who  can  enjoy  them  much." 

She  laid  down  the  second  pearl  hoop  on  the  table,  and 
came  to  me. 

"  Emmie,"  she  said,  "  I  know  it  is  a  hard  thing  for  a 
woman  who  loves  all  lovely  things,  not  to  be  very  beautiful 
herself.  The  dear  Lord  has  not  made  you  very  beautiful, 
in  mere  features.  But  can't  you  wear  a  plain  face  awhile, 
because  He  has  given  it  to  you  to  wear,  and  trust  to  Him 
to  make  it  lovely  in  his  way  and  season  ?  " 

My  step-mamma  hardly  ever  said  anything  so  direct  as 
this  to  me,  about  religion.  She  only  lived  her  religion  in 
a  pleasant,  comfortable,  unassuming  way,  and  kept  a  light 
shining  by  which  I  saw  —  without  her  flashing  it  upon  me 
like  a  dark-lantern  —  into  any  little  selfish  or  God- for 
getful  course  of  my  own  life.  Now,  these  words  came  to 
me  —  across  ten  years  —  the  very  words  said  to  me  in  that 
same  room,  at  that  same  hour  of  night.  .  .  .  "Why  —  it  was 
the  very  night !  We  were  going  to  a  New  Year's  party. 


MY  MOTHER  PUT  IT   ON.  39 

A  great  heart-beat  came  up  in  my  throat,  and  the  tears 
pressed  up  together  into  face  and  eyes,  while  I  felt  the 
kindling  of  my  own  look,  and  saw  what  it  must  be  by  the 
answering  color  and  the  licrht  in  hers. 

o  o 

I  put  my  hands  out  and  reached  them  round  her  waist 
as  she  stood  close  to  me  in  her  beautiful  glowing  dress, 
under  which  a  more  beautiful  heart  was  glowing  brighter. 

"  I  cannot  tell  you  two  apart,  Mamma  and  For-mam- 
ma  !  "  I  said. 

We  went  together  to  the  party.  For-mamma  had  to 
put  her  one  pearl  hoop  in  her  pocket  after  she  got  there, 
for  she  had  forgotten  the  other  on  her  dressing-table. 
And  what  that  party  was  to  me  I  wonder  if  any  grand, 
lovely,  tender  church-service  ever  was  to  anybody,  more 
or  better ! 

I  had  a  quiet  time,  compared  to  some  girls  who  were 
always  rushed  after,  and  rushing  through  the  gay  dances. 
I  was  politely  asked,  and  I  did  dance ;  but  not  every 
time ;  that  was  as  it  always  was  with  me.  But  all  the 
beauty  and  all  the  gladness  in  the  whole  room  was  mine ; 
for  it  was  all  ''the  dear  Lord's,"  and  He  was  giving  it  as 
He  would.  "  Passing  it  round,"  I  couldn't  help  thinking 
—  was  it  irreverent,  I  wonder  ?  —  as  the  sweet,  rich  con 
fections  were  passed  round,  that  were  meant,  a  share  in 
turn,  for  all.  My  turn  would  come.  And  for  my  plain, 
still,  Rocky-Mountain  face  that  I  was  wearing  now, — 
there  was  a  secret  between  me  and  some  Heart  that 
thought  of  me  across  whatever  cold  and  emptiness  of 
wintry  way  might  seem  to  lie  between,  like  that  which  had 
been  when  in  my  childish  disappointment  I  wore  the  sim 
ple  bit  of  ribbon  that  ''  my  mother  had  put  on." 

There  came  a  time  when  I  had  to  give  up  other  beauty. 
To  recognize  that  it  was  not  for  me  —  yet.  Not  in  all 


40  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

this  long,  waiting  world,  as  other  people  have  it.  That 
was  harder ;  yet  it  was  all  one.  It  seemed  to  me  that 
some  people  were  given  at  their  birth  a  kind  of  ticket  that 
opened  to  them  all  paradises  ;  and  that  others  were  thrust 
forth,  unaccredited,  into  a  life  whose  most  beautiful  doors 
would  be  shut,  one  after  another,  in  their  faces. 

I  had  to  content  myself  with  a  fate  like  my  face ;  a 
plain  pleasantness  without  great,  wonderful  delight.  A 
Rocky-Mountain  aspect  of  living,  that  seemed  hard  and 
rough  until  I  got  into  the  heart  of  it,  and  let  it  shut  out 
the  fair  champaigns,  and  then  it  showed  me  its  own  depth, 
and  height,  and  glory. 

There  was  one  long,  heavy  time  when  For-mamma  and 
I  were  separated  for  years.  For-mamma  was  a  widow 
now ;  we  four  that  had  been  a  family  together  were  we 
two  here  and  they  two  there ;  they  three,  in  the  other 
home.  And  my  grandmother,  in  her  feeble,  querulous, 
uncomfortable  old  age,  had  nobody  to  come  and  live  with 
her  and  "  see  her  through,"  as  she  said.  At  nearly  the 
same  time,  For-mamma's  sister  died,  and  there  were  five 
little  children  to  be  cared  for.  I  thought  she  would  never 
get  away  from  that  duty,  though  mine  might  see  an  end. 
But  a  new  wife  came  there  after  a  good  while,  as  For- 
mamma  —  I  hope  it  was  as  she  came  —  had  come  to  us  ; 
and  then  grandmother  died,  and  nobody  could  say  other 
wise  than  that  it  was  a  release.  I  did  not  say  so  ;  I  hate 
to  hear  people  say  that ;  it  is  so  apt  to  mean  a  release  for 
those  who  outlive.  There  are  long  dyings,  and  brief  ones  ; 
when  it  is  over,  we  go  back  to  the  well  time  to  measure 
our  loss.  Grandmother's  dying  began  almost  twenty  years 
before,  when  her  nerves  gave  out,  and  her  comfort  in  liv 
ing  was  over,  and  people  began  to  lose  patience  with  her. 
I  looked  back  to  that  time,  and  thought  what  a  bright, 
handsome  woman,  fond  of  her  own  way,  but  with  such  a 
fine  capable  way,  I  could  recollect  her. 


MY  MOTHER  PUT  IT   ON.  41 

I  had  tried  to  do  my  duty ;  it  was  a  piece  of  life  that 
the  same  Love  had  put  on  me  that  I  had  learned  —  a  lit 
tle  —  to  believe  in  as  a  mother's  ;  and  now  it  was  over  — 
"  through,"  and  For-mamma  and  I  came  together  again, 
so  gladly ! 

I  suppose  everybody  thinks  we  are  very  fortunate  peo 
ple,  and  perfectly  happy  ;  for  we  have  plenty  of  money, 
and  can  do  all  the  pleasant  things  that  can  be  done  with 
money,  for  ourselves  and  for  others.  I  suppose  many  per 
sons  think  that  my  five  years  with  Grandmother  Cumber 
land  were  paid  for  in  the  fifty  thousand  dollars  that  she 
left  me.  I  know  that  they  were  paid  for  as  they  went 
along,  and  as  I  found  myself  able  and  cheerful  to  live 
them. 

For-mamma  and  I  are  happy ;  I  do  not  think  we  shall 
ever  leave  each  other  now  so  long  as  we  both  may  live. 
I  often  think  how  my  father  joined  us  together  with  those 
words. 

We  have  a  lovely  and  dear  home,  and  friends  to  fill  it 
when  we  want  them ;  we  have  happy  errands  to  many 
who  get  some  happiness  through  our  hands  ;  we  have  trav 
eled  together,  and  seen  glorious  and  wonderful  things  ; 
we  read  and  think,  we  sing  and  sew,  we  laugh  and  talk 
and  are  silent  together ;  we  do  not  let  each  other  miss  or 
want.  But.  for  all  this  we  have  each  —  and  both  to 
gether  —  our  troubles  to  bear,  that  would  not  have  been 
worthy  to  be  called  troubles  if  they  had  stirred  in  us  so 
slightly  as  to  have  been  forgotten  long  ago. 

We  only  bear  them  as  things  grown  tender  to  us  by 
their  very  pain  and  pressure,  because  of  Some  One  who 
will  say  to  us  when  we  go  home  to  Him  : 

"  Did  my  dear  child  wear  it  all  the  day  for  My  Sake  ?  " 


BUTTERED  CRUSTS. 
I. 

THE    ERRAND. 

"  You  might  do  half  a  dozen  better  things,"  said  Great- 
aunt  Salva,  rather  crossly. 

Grand-niece  Thankful's  hall  of  green  crewel  rolled  off 
her  lap,  across  the  piazza,  in  whose  wide  house  doorway 
Miss  Peniworth  and  Thankful  Holme  were  sitting.  Some 
thing  was  apt  to  roll  or  drop  or  call  attention  with  this 
young  girl,  so  as  to  leave  Aunt  Salva  unanswered  for  the 
moment,  when  an  answer  would  he  difficult. 

"  And  I  don't  see,"  resumed  the  old  lady,  as  Thankful 
came  hack  to  her  low  wicker  chair  opposite,  with  the  re 
covered  wool,  "  I  don't  see  what  you  can  find  worth 
•while  in  a  piece  of  work  like  that !  " 

There  was  really  no  manner  of  relation  between  the 
two  sentences,  save  consecutiveuess  and  the  conjunctive 
particle,  and  perhaps  the  mood  which  ran  along  in  unity 
under  either  subject.  The  little  word  "  and  "  very  often 
serves  simply  in  such  signification. 

"  I  'm  not  doing  much  of  it,"  replied  Thankful  cheerily, 
tackling  the  last  and  least  complicated  proposition.  "  It 's 
Mrs.  Rolson's  album  sofa-cover ;  this  crocus  patch  is  all  of 
my  share." 

And  she  held  up  a  lovely  lozenge  of  tender  green,  with 
tall  blade  leaves  of  darker  shade,  conventionally  outlined, 
and  slender  stalks  with  yellow  cup  corollas  thrown  across 
it. 


BUTTERED   CRUSTS.  43 

"  It  's  a  nice  way  to  get  work  and  worsteds  out  of  other 
people,"  said  Miss  Peniworth.  "  It 's  all  of  a  piece  with 
weddings  and  silver  weddings,  and  birthday  At-Homes, 
and  such  trash.  I  suppose  it  will  come  to  living  alto 
gether  by  a  contribution  box,  one  of  these  days." 

"  Not  one  of  these  days,  Aunt  Salva,  I  guess.  One  of 
the  days  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  maybe." 

"  Kingdom  of  laziness,  I  should  say  !  " 

"  When  everybody  would  be  busy  doing  something  for 
somebody  else !  " 

"  Why  don't  you  go  to  Europe  with  the  Overoffens  ?  " 

"  I  don't  feel  prepared  to  take  in  Europe  yet." 

"  Or  spend  the  winter  in  Washington,  then  ?  I  know 
Mrs.  Colonel  Stalworth  wants  you." 

"  I  don't  care  enough  for  the  present  chapter  of  United 
States  history.  I  'd  rather  review  or  skip." 

"  Humph  !     Well,  stop  in  New  York  with  me." 

Thankful  laid  her  work  in  her  lap,  and  looked  across  at 
Miss  Peniworth  with  the  most  enchanting  frankness. 

"  We  should  quarrel  in  a  week,  and  I  should  hate  to  do 
that  with  you." 

"With  me?  Or  — with  what"  —  Miss  Peniworth 
dropped  her  voice  and  stopped,  ashamed.  She  jerked 
her  head  aside,  but  her  eyes  flashed  keenly  and  covertly 
at  Thankful  athwart  that  motion. 

"  With  you,  Aunt  Salva,  and  what  you  Ve  got,  but 
won't  own  up  to,"  the  girl  boldly  answered  to  her  mean 
ing  with  as  quick  a  flash  —  "  a  real  good  heart,  under 
neath  all  your  —  terribleness." 

"P-t-z!"  ejaculated  Miss  Peniworth,  shrugging  her 
shoulders  in  fit  gesture  for  the  catlike  utterance.  But  it 
was  all  in  sound  and  gesture.  She  could  not  get  the 
sputter  into  her  face  over  which  an  involuntary  relaxation 
shimmered. 


44  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

"It  only  shows,"  she  resumed  presently,  "that  your 
grandmother  knew  what  she  was  about  when  she  made 
your  coming  of  age  to  be  when  you  was  four  times  seven 
instead  of  three.  That  was  a  clear  sug-gacity !  " 

Tense,  construction,  and  pronunciation  sometimes 
yielded  to  Aunt  Salva's  intensity  when  uttering  herself 
upon  subjects  that  lay  close  to  her  convictions. 

"I'm  quite  satisfied,"  returned  Thankful.  "Grand 
mamma  ordered  me  a  sufficient  allowance,  and  I  may  use 
it  wherever  I  please." 

"  Put  it  into  the  family  sieve  at  Broadtop !  and  take 
out  a  little  bread  and  butter  that  you  '11  have  to  eat 
amongst  a  troop  of  slopping  children  with  nursery  discipline 
going  on  over  the  teacups !  Well,  I  suppose  you  think 
you  're  sharp,  but  when  it  gets  too  much  for  you,  or  your 
pocket,  maybe  you  '11  be  happy  to  come  over  to  me." 

"  Auntie  Salvie,  they  're  as  proud  at  Broadtop  as  you 
are  !  And  that 's  just  why  you  can't  understand  each 
other.  And  if  I  'm  sharp,  or  a  little  bit  kin-and-kind  also, 
it  only  shows "  —  and  a  touch  of  mimicry  pointed  her 
speech  without  malice  —  "  that  I  've  got  just  two  or  three 
things  by  inheritance  besides  my  money.  And  the  little 
Frosts  are  lovely.  Only  Laura  has  too  much  to  do  with 
the  blessed  crowd.  And  I  want  to  live  in  a  home." 

"  Girls  are  always  in  a  hurry  for  a  home.  There 's 
the  usual  way  to  get  it,  I  suppose  ;  to  say  nothing  of  its 
being  all  ready  made  for  you  here,  if  you  chose  to  appre 
ciate  it." 

Thankful  jumped  up  rather  suddenly,  and  went  to  look 
nearer  at  something  which  she  had  been  partly  watching 
while  the  talk  had  gone  on. 

As  she  does  so,  let  me  explain  —  as  I  must  do  some 
where  —  with  all  the  conciseness  possible,  the  position  and 
relation  of  affairs  obscurely  indicated  in  the  current  con 
versation. 


BUTTERED   CRUSTS.  45 

Thankful  Holme  had  been  an  orphan  for  five  years, 
living  here  in  a  pleasant  old  country  house  with  her  grand 
mamma  Peniworth.  By  three  successive  marriages,  in 
the  third  of  which  was  no  survivor  of  the  first,  herself 
and  two  much  older  step-sisters,  hoth  now  some  time  mar 
ried,  had  been  left  with  no  real  blood-tie  between  them, 
save  a  distant-cousinship,  the  father  of  Charlotte  and 
Laura  Peniworth  having  been  a  half  -  nephew  of  Aunt 
Salva's,  and  the  second  husband  of  his  widow  having  be 
come  in  his  turn  a  widower,  and  then  married  old  Madam 
Peniworth's  daughter,  Thankful's  mother. 

There  was  no  love  lost,  as  people  bitterly  say,  between 
the  old  Peniworths  and  the  "  Robert  Peniworth  "  branch  ; 
and  nothing  had  won  upon  the  prejudice  in  the  case  of 
the  young  Peniworth  sisters,  who  —  Laura  especially  — 
had  fallen  under  ban  and  displeasure  by  many  a  childish, 
and  even  maturer,  showing  of  dislike  and  a  ready  pug 
nacity,  when  pressed  by  interference  or  authority. 

"  You  are  paring  those  apples  too  thick,"  Aunt  Salva 
had  said  to  her  one  day  when  she  was  seven  years  old. 
It  was  in  the  Robert  Peniworth  dining-room,  and  Miss 
Salva  was  only  a  morning  visitor. 

"  I  'm  paring  them  for  my  mother,"  the  little  girl  had 
replied,  letting  fall,  as  she  spoke,  a  strip,  or  almost  slice, 
of  particularly  fleshy  rind. 

"  I  should  quite  suppose  so,"  sniffed  Miss  Salva  coolly, 
and  the  child  had  understood,  and  her  eyes  had  blazed. 

In  these  later  days,  the  very  last  time  Miss  Salva  had 
made  one  of  her  duty-and-decency  appearances  at  Broad- 
top  (for  the  Peniworths  might  not  lose  love,  yet  neither 
would  they  lose  dignity  by  manifest  family  splinterings), 
she  admonished  Laura  that  she  was  cutting  some  cloth 
to  less  advantage  than  might  be  possible  by  doubling  and 
piecing,  upon  which  the  young  matron  had  run  her  scis- 


46  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

sors  rapidly  through  with  a  most  capable  and  satisfied  air, 
vouchsafing  no  notice. 

"  I  ivonder  at  you !  "  Aunt  Salva  cried,  with  indignation 
and  affront. 

"  Now,  Auntie  Sal !  "  said  Mrs.  Laura,  holding  her 
shining  steels  apart  in  air  as  dripping  from  the  slaughter, 
and  looking  straight  in  Miss  Peniworth's  face  with  ex 
asperating  imperturbability,  "  suppose  you  just  wonder, 
please,  and  I  '11  cut  ?  " 

And  after  that  Miss  Peniworth  had  not  gone  to  Broad- 
top  for  now  more  than  a  year.  So  that  matters  were  not 
smoothing  out  at  all  in  the  roughened  relationship. 

One  thing  more  needs  to  be  stated.  At  the  marriage 
of  each  grand-niece,  Miss  Peniworth  had  given  pride  and 
conscience  "  a  cold  potato  and  let  them  go,"  by  present 
ing  the  bride  with  three  thousand-dollar  bonds  of  the 
Liberty  Loan  and  Trust  Company,  with  the  distinct  dec 
laration  that  it  was  all  either  was  to  expect,  and  the 
prophecy  that  it  would  n't  last  longer  than  till  the  wedding 
gowns  were  out  of  fashion.  The  old  lady  was  known  to 
keep  a  careful  watch,  through  her  Boston  banker,  upon 
all  the  sales  of  the  company's  bonds,  and  to  have  repeat 
edly  changed  other  stocks  into  investments  therein,  "  be 
cause  there  was  nothing  better,"  she  said ;  but  Stewart 
and  Laura  Frost  believed  she  would  put  her  last  shilling 
into  L.  L.  and  T.,  rather  than  miss  the  chance  of  com 
ing  across  numbers  149-154  inclusive  of  1888,  when  any 
of  them  should  be  in  transition  from  "  those  girls'  "  un 
thrifty  fingers. 

Miss  Salva  lived  in  New  York  in  an  elegant  small 
house  on  Thirty-first  street,  with  a  housekeeper-compan 
ion,  a  cook,  and  a  man  servant.  She  had  one  eye  on 
Laura  at  Broadtop,  and  the  other  on  Charlotte  at  Brook 
lyn,  "  for  satisfaction,"  if  not  for  aid  and  comfort;  and 


BUTTERED   CRUSTS.  47 

she  thought  now  to  hold  some  rein  of  management  in 
Thankful's  affairs,  although  a  queer  surprise  befell  her 
here  at  times. 

The  young  lady  did  not  offensively  "take  the  bits  be 
tween  her  teeth,"  but  she  did  not  always  seem  to  have 
them  in  her  mouth.  Aunt  Salva,  as  now,  often  pulled 
upon  something  that  neither  resisted  nor  obeyed.  That, 
perhaps,  was  the  difference  between  Holme  and  Peni- 
worth. 

Thankful  was  very  fond  of  Laura,  who  had  been  a  tall 
girl  at  home  during  the  early  years  of  the  little  step-sister's 
childhood,  and  had  indulged  and  companionized  her,  and 
had  told  her  that  they  were  "  step-sisters "  only  because 
it  was  such  a  long  step  between  them  over  the  twelve 
birthdays. 

So  Thankful  was  quite  resolved  on  spending  this  first 
winter  of  her  independence  with  the  Stewart  Frosts  at 
Broadtop,  a  pretty  town  in  the  hill  country  of  northern 
New  Jersey. 

At  present  we  have  left  her  bent  upon  some  special  in 
vestigation  which  has  drawn  her  off,  for  the  second  time, 
from  Miss  Peniworth's  argument.  A  large  brown  spider 
had  been  busily  hanging  her  evening  web  between  the 
swinging  sprays  and  twisted  stems  of  an  old  luxuriant 
creeper  and  a  pillar  of  the  broad  piazza.  She  had 
dropped,  huge  and  hairy,  trailing  her  long  threads  and 
swaying  in  the  softly-moving  wind,  until  she  had  caught 
on  this  side  and  on  that,  making  fast  her  mainstays  ;  then, 
in  a  favoring  puff,  had  stretched  a  horizontal,  and  built 
more  lines  on  that ;  and  now  she  was  weaving  and  knot 
ting,  back  and  forth,  round  and  round,  closing  in  and  up 
to  her  focus,  literally  her  hearthplace. 

Thankful  stood  peering  into  the  shadow  among  the 
vine-twigs,  and  watched  the  last  short  parallels  and  joins, 


48  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

as  the  creature,  shrunken  with  her  long  spinning,  ran  and 
fastened  them,  and  at  last  sat  herself  down,  withered  and 
weary,  at  the  solitary  self-centre  she  had  wrought  around. 

"  Oh,  wliat  's  the  use  ?  "  cried  Thankful,  which  ejacu 
lation  Miss  Salva  naturally,  though  with  some  puzzled 
effort,  connected  with  what  had  been  last  spoken. 

"  Use  ?  Why,  to  be  somewhere.  To  have  things  of 
your  own  to  yourself.  That 's  a  home." 

"  Well,  she  's  got  it.  And  it  is  n't  a  home  after  all. 
It 's  all  to  herself.  And  she  is  n't  much  of  anything  as  a 
result.  She  was  a  good  deal  higger  when  she  began. 
And  I  believe  they  eat  up  their  husbands,  too  —  some 
sorts  —  when  they  have  any,  don't  they?" 

"  What  on  earth  are  you  talking  about,  Thankful 
Holme  ?  " 

"  Why,  spiders,  Aunt  Salva.  I  would  n't  be  a  spider 
for  any  consideration  whatever.  Just  to  spin  and  spin, 
and  double  and  twist  and  tie  up,  laying  out  lines  for  my 
self,  and  then  sit  withered  up  in  the  middle  of  them.  I  '11 
never  have  a  spider  home  as  long  as  I  live !  " 

Aunt  Salva  sat  as  mute  as  the  spider.  Perhaps  the  ap 
plication  reached  farther  and  keener  than  pleased  her,  or 
than  Thankful  at  all  meant,  as  was  perfectly  evident ;  so 
that  there  was  nobody  to  be  angry  at.  Maybe  the  thing 
struck  Thankful  herself  when  it  had  been  said ;  for  she 
added  with  swift  and  slightly  remote  recurrence  as  she 
came  back  to  her  chair  once  more  : 

"  Besides,  I  've  fallen  in  love  with  Bobby,  and  must 
cast  in  my  lot  with  him  now." 

A  minute  after,  with  the  curious  appositeness  that  rules 
in  words  and  things  illustrating  and  reflecting  each  other 
in  their  befallings,  the  Bobby  referred  to  projected  him 
self  upon  the  scene,  coming  through  the  house  from  the 
back,  a  small  boy  of  six,  with  a  large,  glossy-brown  bun 


BUTTERED   CRUSTS.  49 

in  one  hand,  and  a  pink-and-golden  peach  in  the  other, 
with  which  he  crossed  the  piazza  into  the  shade  of  the 
great  Norway  spruces  close  in  front. 

"  Fenella  gave  them  to  me,"  he  called,  looking  back 
,  when  he  had  set  himself  in  a  needle-strewn  nook  like  a 
little  image  in  a  green  shrine.  "  And  she  said  I  might  eat 
.my  supper  out  of  doors.  And,  Aunt  Thankful,"  he  went 
on  with  solemn  deliberation,  "  I  've  come-cluded  that  I 
don't  want  to  go  back  to  Broadtop  right  away  presently. 
I  like  that  girl  —  to  distraction  !  " 

After  Thankful's  burst  of  laughter  at  the  pat  parody  of 
her  own  confession,  he  continued  in  precisely  the  same 
manner  as  one  interrupted  inconsequently,  but  not  so  to 
be  discomposed  :  "  Well,  I  do,  and  you  too.  I  don't  like 
groaned-up  folks  usually.  They  're  pretty  always  tired  or 
busy,  or  can't  spare  things,  or  they  have  a  bone  in  their 
foot.  But  you  don't.  And  Fenella  gives  me  buns ;  and 
when  I  have  bread  and  butter,  you  always  butter  the 
crusts." 

"  I  guess  if  you  're  going  to  Broadtop  or  going  to  bring 
Broadtop  here,  to  butter  crusts,  you  '11  have  your  hands 
full  —  and  none  too  much  butter !  "  exclaimed  Aunt 
Salva  as  she  gathered  up  her  mended  stockings  and  took 
herself  slowly  away  up  the  fine  old  staircase. 

"  The  crusts  are  all  you  need  take  much  pains  to  but 
ter,  it  seems  to  me,"  said  Thankful  to  herself  and  Bobby. 
"  It  spreads  down  easy  enough  into  the  soft  parts.  And 
yet  there  's  where  most  people  persist  in  just  dabbing  it 
on." 

'k  She  's  awfully  groaned-up,  is  n't  she,"  said  Bobby 
Frost,  coining  in  at  the  door  and  tossing  his  old  head 
over  his  young  shoulder  towards  the  landing  behind  whose 
balusters  Miss  Peniworth's  silk  skirts  were  grandly  sweep 
ing. 

3 


50  HOMESPUN  YARNS. 

That  Bobby  happened  to  be  here  at  all,  to  be  fallen  in 
love  with  and  to  have  his  crusts  buttered,  was  due  first  to 
whooping-cough,  from  which  he  was  recovering,  and  to 
complete  which  recovery  his  father  had  brought  him  to 
Norchester  on  his  own  way,  on  business,  to  Boston ;  leav 
ing  him  with  an  Aunt  Frost  whose  home  was  a  mile  away 
toward  Graveham  from  the  Peniworth  place.  That  he 
should  come  to  Thankful,  though  she  earnestly  entreated 
it,  had  been  quite  out  of  the  question  with  Mrs.  Laura. 
"  To  tumble  in  my  children  upon  her  the  moment  her 
house  becomes  her  own  !  "  she  said  indignantly.  "  That 
would  be  quite  too  much  that  the  Peniworth  prophecies 
might  be  fulfilled  !  "  But  Thankful  had  got  him  for  day 
visits :  and  he  had  quite  well  learned  his  own  way  over 
across  by  the  lane  and  in  at  the  back  door,  as  he  had  come 
at  the  present  time,  his  trunk  being  to  follow  from  Aunt 
Frost's,  and  he  to  spend  a  final  day  or  two  here  for  Thank- 
ful's  "  own  better  convenience,"  before  she  should  take  the 
care  of  him  home  to  Broadtop,  as  had  been  under  some 
protest  conceded. 

So,  directly  after  Miss  Salva's  short  stop  at  the  "  Ever 
greens,"  on  her  autumn  trip  from  Old  Orchard  to  Prince 
ton,  on  her  return  home  to  New  York,  and  curiously  co 
incident  with  Bobby's  sojourn  —  the  "  Evergreens  "  was 
shut  up ;  it  was  forbidden  by  the  will  to  be  "  sold,  let, 
lent,  or  otherwise  alienated  or  put  to  any  use  except  that 
of  the  occupancy  of  Thankful  Holme  and  her  proper  and 
natural  household,  should  she  elect  to  live  there"  (this 
also  had  been  a  "  suggacity "  )  ;  and  Bobby  and  Aunt 
Thankful  made  their  rail  and  steamer  trip  to  New  York 
and  thence  onward  by  morning  train,  an  hour's  distance 
into  New  Jersey ;  where,  walking  up  from  the  little  sta 
tion  in  the  hollow  at  which  they  alighted,  they  found  them 
selves  at  the  door  of  a  modest,  olive-green  house,  with 


BUTTERED   CRUSTS.  51 

mahogany-colored  blinds  and  a  red  roof,  upon  "  The 
Slope  "  at  Broad  top. 

Broadtop  was  divided  by  topography  and  social  lines 
into  three  parts,  of  successive  rising  order  and  impor 
tance  ;  the  "  Plain,"  the  "  Slope,"  and  the  "  Brim."  With 
in  or  behind  the  "  Brim,"  an  avenue  skirting  the  edge  of 
Broadtop  Hill,  upon  which  the  fine  houses  of  the  high- 
privileged  were  built,  commanding  with  cool,  breezy  supe 
riority  the  level  and  lowly  world  below,  made  and  main 
tained  that  the  Brim  might  have  a  "view"  and  a  foun 
dation,  lay  the  sacredly  environed  and  secluded  "  Round," 
a  kind  of  green  park  into  which  all  the  gardens  of  the 
Brim  opened,  and  so  issued  in  a  common  pleasure-ground 
for  this  literal  upper  circle  of  inhabitants.  It  was  all  as 
definite  and  beautifully  discrete  as  Dante's  Paradise  or 
Swedenborg's  Three  Heavens. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Stewart  Frost  were  on  the  ascending 
middle  line  ;  not  very  far  up,  but  prettily  terraced  where 
they  stood :  they  might  climb  higher  or  slip  downward  by 
some  future  change.  Ethelind  and  Celia  Frost,  in  their 
early  teens,  were  growing  just  old  enough  to  begin  to  ap 
preciate  the  palpable  and  impalpable  facts  of  life  which 
these  zones  and  selvedges  signified ;  the  former  wished 
fervently,  both  openly  and  in  secret,  that  they  "  belonged 
up  on  the  Brim,"  and  the  latter  had  experienced  a  wound 
whose  scar  would  remain  a  memory  in  the  flesh  long  years 
after  the  hurt  had  been  healed  and  laughed  at,  when  Livia 
Sternhaugh  had  one  day  publicly  pronounced  her  "  only  a 
village  girl ! "  A  week's  excitement,  half  hilarity  and 
half  discontent,  resulted  with  them  from  every  infrequent 
afternoon  ecstasy  of  lawn-tennis  in  the  Round.  They 
had  their  lessons  at  home  ;  they  had  not  been  invited  to 
the  governess-and-masters  arrangement  for  the  young 
"  round-heads,"  and  the  town  school  on  the  flat  would  not 
do  at  all.  • 


52  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

At  this  moment  they  were  away  upon  an  errand  in  the 
lower  street.  Mrs.  Frost  was  busy  with  some  matters 
that  had  taken  her  to  the  topmost  room  in  the  house  ;  the 
"  middies,"  two  boys  nearly  nine  and  eleven,  were  at 
school,  public  instruction  being  well  enough  for  them  at 
present ;  the  travelers  had  not  been  expected  until  a  later 
train,  so  that  nobody  happened  to  meet  and  welcome  them 
but  two  gray  cats,  sitting  like  the  Northumberland  lions, 
one  on  each  ramp  of  the  doorstone,  whom  Bobby  hailed 
and  introduced  tumultuously  as  "  One-ey  "  and  "  Two-ey." 

"  Forcause  they  are  twins,  and  came  here  together,"  he 
exclaimed.  "  There 's  another,  that  we  had  afterward. 
She  's  Oddy-doddy,  and  she  's  yellow." 

This  was  charming.  Thankful  felt  already  at  home, 
and  that  home  had  a  distinctive  character. 

Yet  when  the  door  was  opened  she  had  time  to  notice, 
while  Laura  was  hastening  down  at  the  shout  of  her  boy, 
that  hall  and  stair  carpets  were  dim  and  shabby  with  the 
tread  of  so  many  incessant  young  feet,  and  that  there  was 
a  certain  discouraged  expression  in  the  trail  of  a  pre-aes- 
thetic  table  cover,  and  the  irregular  gathering  of  small 
inevitables  upon  a  crowded  mantel  in  the  open  dining- 
room. 

On  Laura's  part,  after  the  first  warm  embrace  and  eager 
utterance  of  pleasure,  her  glance  ran  rapidly  from  its 
scanning  of  the  pretty,  blooming  face,  over  the  girl's  fault 
less  equipment,  with  the  last  fresh  touch  of  perfect  "  style  " 
upon  it,  from  the  neat  little  poke  of  the  picturesque  but 
modest  bonnet-brim,  down  along  double-buttoned,  jaunty- 
pocketed  jacket  of  soft,  beautiful,  coarse  and  costly  wool- 
stuff,  to  scarfed  and  kilted  skirt  of  camel's  hair,  with 
chatelaine-bag  of  silken  plush,  girdled  aslant,  ending  with 
the  "  eight-dollar-if-eighty-cents  "  boots,  all  of  which  Laura 
instinctively  inventoried,  not  with  the  pomp  and  vanity 


BUTTERED   CRUSTS.  53 

side  of  her,  but  with  the  mother-keenness  that  joined  in 
voluntarily  the  thought  of  "  her  girls,"  and  the  sight  of 
things  so  altogether  nice  and  so  altogether  unattainable. 

But  we  must  let  these  first  glances  represent  much  sub 
sequent  insight  and  comparison,  and  must  plunge  more 
abruptly  and  disconnectedly  "  in  medias  res  ;  "  picking 
up  our  crusts  here  and  there,  instead  of  regularly  slicing 
the  loaf,  if  we  are  to  butter  them,  as  suitably  proposed  in 
a  few  sketchy  chapters. 

It  might  not  have  been  very  different  with  Thankful 
and  her  early  days  at  Broadtop,  had  nothing  been  said  or 
illustrated  by  "  buttered  crusts."  It  was  her  nature  to 
smooth  and  appetize  things,  and  to  begin  with  the  diffi 
culties,  seizing  them  with  quick  and  valorous  apprehen 
sion,  letting  the  easy  spots  take  care  of  themselves  ;  but  to 
any  such  fitness  almost  always  comes  a  word  spoken 
plainly  into  the  life  as  errand  or  message,  henceforth  to 
make  conscious  root  and  motive  in  it,  and  order  work  with 
purpose.  "  Buttered  Crusts  "  had  so  come  to  Thankful, 
and  formulated  a  mere  happy  proneness  to  a  principle. 

She  had  come  to  her  step-sister's  home  to  make  it  the 
pleasanter  for  her  coming  if  she  could ;  to  share  and  lift 
a  little  the  bothers  and  perplexities  she  knew  of  or  could 
guess,  instead  of  going  off  to  have  just  her  own  good  time 
with  her  own  ;  and  the  accidental  sign  had  given  her  a 
key  and  watchword.  From  her  first  entrance  that  Octo 
ber  morning  she  kept  an  outlook  for  bits  of  crusts  to  but 
ter,  as  if  they  had  been  so  many  four-leaved  clovers  that 
it  meant  good  luck  to  find ;  and  with  every  one  she  found 
came  indeed  some  scrap  of  luck  or  easement  to  the  house 
hold,  sometimes  directly  recognized  and  sometimes  not ; 
but  what  mattered  it  which,  so  long  as  the  good  taste  got 
into  things  and  the  family  fare  was  made  comfortable  to 
the  family  palate  ? 


54  HOMESPUN  YARNS. 

"  If  we  get  over  Sunday  and  Monday  without  notice  of 
intent  to  quit,  we  can  breathe  the  rest  of  the  week,"  said 
Mrs.  Laura  as  the  housework  adjutant-general  departed 
one  morning,  with  her  orders  for  the  wash-day  lunch,  and 
a  handful  of  overlooked  small  wear  of  the  children's. 
"  We  just  weathered  it  this  time." 

"  I  think  it 's  the  breakfasts,"  said  Thankful.  "  '  Thun 
der  in  the  morning,  sailors  take  warning.'  And  the  thun 
der  comes  early,  I  've  noticed,  if  at  all." 

"  We  must  have  breakfasts,  nevertheless." 

Another  weather  proverb  occurred  to  Thankful  which 
she  did  not  quote  :  "  Evening  gray  and  morning  red,  etc." 
The  signs,  or  the  gathering,  began,  she  thought,  over 
night. 

So  the  next  Sunday  morning  when  Runy  in  big  hat  and 
feather  came  down  before  the  family  to  go  to  early  mass, 
her  eyelids  lifted  to  a  parallel  with  the  high  tilt  of  the  hat 
brim  at  sight  of  the  long  dining-room  table  —  usually  a 
litter  of  evening  and  weekly  papers,  children's  games  and 
school-books,  maybe  a  stray  hat  or  handkerchief  or  two, 
possibly  an  emptied  milk  glass  and  a  plate  of  biscuit 
crumbs  or  fruit  parings,  with  the  large  lamp  awaiting  re 
moval  and  replenishing  in  the  midst  of  all,  and  a  huddle 
of  chairs  pushed  about  at  various  angles  of  relinquish- 
ment  around  it  —  nicely  spread  for  the  morning  meal, 
complete  to  the  salts  and  cruet-stand,  with  the  white  hen 
waiting  for  her  eggs  at  the  corner,  and  the  water  pitcher 
on  its  green  tray  opposite. 

And  the  same  thing  happened  on  the  Monday  also. 

"  Bless  her  kind  soul,  and  it 's  I  that  '11  say  a  prayer  for 
it !  "  was  Runy's  Sunday  exclamation,  remembering  Thank 
ful  with  her  writing  materials  the  last  in  the  room  when 
she  herself  went  up  through  it  the  night  before.  And  for 
the  Monday's  breakfast  she  just  stopped  in  her  first  sudsing 


BUTTERED   CRUSTS.  55 

to  "  bobble  up  "  some  Graham  griddle-batter  for  the  cakes 
"  Miss  Thankful  "  liked. 

"I  was  up  late  with  my  letters,"  Thankful  explained  to 
her  effusion  afterward,  "  and  I  happened  to  think  of  it. 
It 's  so  much  better  to  have  things  ready  over  night  for  a 
busy  morning.  I  'd  bring  up  my  coal  and  kindlings,  be 
sides,  if  I  were  you,  Runy." 

And  between  the  two  there  went  on  weeks  of  Sundays 
and  Mondays,  when  there  were  neither  lowering  sunsets 
nor  lurid  dawns. 

"  I  never  can  persuade  that  child  to  go  of  an  errand," 
said  Laura  another  day  in  despair.  "He  's  ready  enough 
with  anything  but  a  set  message,  and  he  is  n't  shy  of  visit 
ing,  but  to  go  and  say  ten  words  and  come  away  again  — 
one  might  as  well  ask  him  to  go  and  have  a  tooth  pulled. 
I  can't  understand  it." 

Thankful  interviewed  Bobby  afterward  on  her  own  ac 
count. 

"'T  ain't  goin\"  said  the  unwilling  little  Mercury, 
"and  't  ain't  say  in' ;  but  —  Aunt  Thankye,  how  do 
you"  — 

"Well,  'how'  what?" 

"  It  's  easy  enough  to  get  into  people's  houses,  you 
know,"  he  replied  with  a  rush  of  candor,  "  but  the  thing 
is,  you  see,  how  do  you  get  out  ?  " 

"  Oh !  well,  that 's  just  the  prettiest  part  of  it,  when 
you  once  know  how  to  do  it  right.  But  it  takes  a  little 
practice.  Where  's  your  hat  ?  " 

"  It 's  a  great  deal  easier  for  a  boy  because  of  the  hat," 
resumed  Thankful  when  that  article  had  been  put  into 
her  hand.  "  Now  look :  You  are  Mrs.  Snow.  I  am 
Bobby  Frost.  Good-morning,  Mrs.  Snow." 

She  held  the  hat  easily  by  the  rim  between  thumbs  and 


56  HOMESPUN  YARNS. 

fingers,  gently  handling,   but   not  fidgeting  with  it,  and 
looked  straight  at  Mrs.  Snow. 

"  Mamma  sent  me  to  say  that  you  might  keep  the  Club 
books  over  her  week  this  time,  if  you  wish,  for  she  is 
very  busy  with  a  dressmaker,  and  making  grape  jelly, 
and  can't  read  more  than  the  magazines.  (Now  it 's  your 
turn,  Mrs.  Snow.  You  always  have  half  the  wretched 
ness,  you  know.  I  've  nothing  to  do  but  listen,  and  take 
care  of  my  hat.)" 

Mrs.  Snow  stared  ;  Bobby  Frost  had  never  been  sent 
to  her  with  half  so  long  an  agony  before.  Then  she 
laughed  and  ventured  to  answer,  entering  into  the  game. 

"  Tell  your  mamma  I  'm  very  muthsh  oblithzhed,"  she 
said,  mixing  up  her  dignity  with  Bobby  Frost's  occasional 
inimitable  lisp. 

Then  Thankful  turned  toward  the  door.  ("  Mrs.  Snow 
ought  to  come  with  me  and  show  me  out ")  she  parenthe 
sized,  ("  but  if  she  does  n't,  it 's  no  matter.  I  've  only 
got  one  thing  more  to  say,  and  one  thing  more  to  do  with 
my  hat,  and  it 's  over.)" 

She  put  one  hand  on  the  door-latch,  raised  the  hat  with 
the  other  by  a  truly  gentlemanly  lift  of  the  elbow,  letting 
the  brim  incline  lightly  toward  her  right  ear,  said  "  Good 
morning,  Mrs.  Snow,"  and  disappeared. 

"  Oh,  but  Aunt  Thankye,"  called  out  Bobby  into  the 
entry,  "  she  does  very  often  say  more  things,  and  tells  me 
it 's  a  pleasant  day,  and  I  'm  a  nice  boy,  and  can't  I  stay 
longer.  And  then  "  — 

"  Well,  why  did  n't  you  say  them  ?  "  asked  Aunt 
Thankye,  coming  back.  "  You  were  Mrs.  Snow.  I  '11 
begin  again  if  you  want  to.  But  it 's  only  to  answer, 
'  Yes,  ma'am,'  or  '  Thank  you,'  or  '  Not  now,  I  thank 
you,'  and  go,  just  the  same,  whenever  she  stops.  She  '11 
do  that  by  the  time  you  're  at  the  door.  Two  good-morn- 


BUTTERED   CRUSTS.  57 

ings,  your  message,  your  hat,  and  the  door,  are  all  you  've 
got  to  think  of.  The  rest  is  her  business." 

And  the  drill  was  repeated  with  variations  and  laughter, 
and  exchange  of  parts,  until  Bobby  rushed  away  to  his 
mother,  shouting  ecstatically,  "  I  '11  go  all  your  messithzhes 
now,  mamma.  Ain't  you  got  any  ready  ?  I  know  every 
bit  how  now ;  and  Aunt  Thankye  has  put  a  new  ribbon 
on  my  hat,  and  she  says  that  when  you  fix  'em  right,  all 
the  hard  things  are  thzhest  the  comforblest !  " 

After  this,  Bobby  made  a  pride  and  practice  of  con 
ning  his  mother's  errands,  and  rehearsing  them  to  Aunt 
Thankful,  with  something  of  the  hat  drill,  on  every  oc 
casion  ;  his  trial  had  become  his  diversion  ;  it  was  a  bit 
of  amateur  theatricals,  and  a  development  of  decided  tal 
ent  ;  mamma  was  no  longer  troubled  to  put  everything 
"  in  a  note,"  because  he  "  could  n't  pothsibly  say  it  all 
right,"  and  the  only  contretemps  which  ever  happened 
was  when  one  day  the  Mrs.  Snow  of  the  occasion,  find 
ing  some  little  difficulty  of  her  own  in  answering  as  di 
rectly  and  positively  as  she  felt  was  proper,  rather  mixed 
up  her  part  of  the  play  and  came  to  a  doubtful  halt,  so 
that  Bobby  hardly  knew  whether  or  not  he  had  got  it  all, 
or  his  regular  cue  for  beginning  to  depart ;  and  the  pause 
continuing,  he  looked  up  with  a  puzzled  remonstrance, 
and  gently  whispered,  "  Ain't  you  goin'  to  finish  your 
half  of  the  wrethshedness  ?  " 

"You've  taken  one  gray  hair  out  of  my  head!  "  said 
Mrs.  Laura  to  her  step-sister. 

Most  trivial  of  crusts ;  yet  small,  hard  corners  in  the 
daily  bread.  Lightest  of  frets  and  strains,  yet  stealing 
some  bright  color,  as  from  one  hair  at  a  time,  out  of 
mother-life  and  strength. 

Thankful  was  no  all-or-nothing  errand-worker  ;  she  was 
quite  willing  to  begin  and  persevere  with  bits  and  edges. 


58  HOMESPUN  YARNS. 

II. 

BITS   AND   EDGES. 

THE  long  walk  would  be  nothing  were  there  no  peb 
ble  in  the  shoe.  "When  great  cares  worried  Airs.  Laura, 
it  was  not  themselves  so  much  as  the  trifles  hindering  her 
grappling  with  them,  that  upset  her  patience.  A  ragged 
corner  to  her  tablecloth,  a  child's  hat  lost,  a  little  dust 
overlooked  or  waiting  the  brush,  would  make  the  world 
weary  to  her,  more  than  comparing  the  butcher's  bill  with 
the  balance  in  her  cash  box,  or  facing  the  Wednesday 
clothes-sorting  or  the  Friday  sweep.  It  was  so  even  in 
her  dealings  with  her  children.  If  they  would  have  kept 
always  fresh  and  comfortable  to  look  upon,  she  could  have 
met  with  less  annoyance  their  vicissitudes  of  temper,  their 
interruptions,  their  little  disobediences. 

"  I  could  bear  with  Bobby  better  if  it  was  n't  for  his 
buttons,"  was  her  impetuous  utterance  one  wild  day  of 
nursery  cyclones,  and  the  alliteration  in  trochaics  had 
passed  into  the  family  proverbial  philosophy. 

Thankful  set  herself  to  remedy  the  buttons.  If  Mis 
tress  Peggoty,  of  immortal  memory,  had  to  sacrifice  her 
buttons  to  her  emotions,  how  was  a  boy  of  six,  with  the 
impulse  and  activity  of  growing  man-force  within  him, 
with  steel-spring  limbs,  and  india-rubber  muscles  to  give 
it  play,  to  keep  small  trousers  and  shirt-waists  together  ? 
Bobby  Frost  was  always  presenting  himself  to  his  mother 
in  a  solution  of  continuity.  Thankful  invented  the  simple 
expedient  of  strong,  close,  elastic  loops  under  the  trouser- 
bands,  instead  of  button-holes.  Bobby  was  thenceforth 
clothed,  and  Mrs.  Laura  in  her  right  mind. 

Likewise  with  chance  disorders  about  the  house.  She 
forestalled  the  nettle-fret  of  these  by  early  morning  raids, 


BUTTERED   CRUSTS.  59 

into  which  she  gradually  drew  the  elder  girls ;  for  she 
would  by  no  means  take  altogether  upon  herself  that 
which  it  was  their  natural  duty  to  do.  "  Come,  girls  !  " 
she  would  say,  after  breakfast,  and  that  meant  what  Eth- 
elind  called  "  ordering  out  the  special  police,"  who  from 
room  to  room  cleared  away  rapidly  every  little  eyesore 
and  fidget,  so  that  all  the  domestic  thoroughfares  were 
straightened  and  opened  up  for  mamma's  ten  o'clock  pa 
rade. 

For  a  while  the  unplaceable  matter,  which  is  rubbish  — 
as  "  matter  out  of  place  is  dirt  "  —  was  the  bore  within 
the  bother  ;  odds  and  ends  of  work  or  play  which  might 
perhaps  be  finally  disposed  of,  but  might  be  wanted  again ; 
especially  scraps  of  Mr.  Frost's  property,  or  little  calcu 
lations  or  memoranda  which  he  would  leave  about,  ex 
pecting  to  find  them  in  the  same  spot  after  any  interval. 
An  old  letter,  perhaps,  on  the  top  of  the  silver  basket, 
laid  there  on  carrying  up  at  night,  that  it  might  be  re 
membered  ;  the  need  for  remembrance  not  occurring, 
possibly,  for  several  days.  What  to  do  with  it  meantime  ? 
And  four  children,  with  their  pencils,  paper,  tools,  play 
things,  treasures,  old  and  new,  brought  forth,  but  seldom 
carried  back,  often  left  a  trail  after  them  like  that  of  a 
small  tornado. 

Thankful  founded  two  institutions  ;  a  "  hash-box,"  and 
a  capacious  wall-pocket :  the  first  for  juvenile  miscellanies, 
the  second  sacred  to  the  father  of  the  family,  wherein  he 
might  depend  on  finding  whatever  he  had  left  upon  the 
sands  within  the  sweep  of  morning  tidying-tide.  These 
things  worked  admirably  ;  life  ebbed  and  flowed  in  small 
details,  like  a  summer  sea.  If  it  could  only  have  been 
the  same  with  the  anxieties  and  perplexities,  which 
Thankful  would  "  fain,  fain  "  have  grappled  with  also  ! 
She  could  count  seven  family  wants  at  this  very  moment. 


60  HOMESPUN  YARNS. 

But  she  had  to  bide  her  time  among  the  lesser  comforts 
she  had  created. 

The  Middies  wanted  to  have  a  birthday  party.  They 
would  be  nine  and  eleven  years  old  on  the  ninth  and 
eleventh  days  of  November.  This  coincidence  of  num 
bers  would  never  occur  again.  The  tenth  was  their  day 
to  celebrate,  and  should  certainly  be  celebrated  now. 
Ethelind  and  Celia  wanted  to  join  a  French  conversation 
class,  and  to  have  winter  jerseys,  one  cardinal-red,  the 
other  ocean-blue.  Mrs.  Frost  wanted  new  carpeting  for 
her  hall  and  stairs.  Mr.  Frost  needed  a  new  overcoat. 
Bobby  wanted  vociferously  a  "  bisuckle,  or  less  a  new 
sled."  The  "  mighty  mite,"  or  "  Madge  the  midget," 
wanted  a  plush  coat  and  hood,  and  did  n't  care  anything 
about  it. 

Thankful  turned  things  in  her  mind,  as  if  they  had 
been  her  own  puzzle.  Which  might,  and  in  what  way,  be 
managed  ?  Which  achieved,  would  leave  widest  margin 
for  the  rest  ?  It  was  a  game  at  solitaire. 

Most  conspicuously  and  literally  the  carpet  blocked  the 
way.  It  was  a  king-card  topping  the  pile.  It  blocked 
more  than  expenditure  ;  it  hindered  social  welcome.  It 
discouraged  house-ordering  and  easy  adorning.  What 
good  in  crewel  cat-o'-nine-tails  and  fleur-de-lis,  that  only 
mocked  and  flaunted  the  hole  at  the  doorway  ?  Under 
the  mat,  truly  ;  but  how  hateful  was  that ! 

Thankful  meditated  ;  then  one  morning  she  spoke. 

"  There's  another  old  stair-carpet  in  the  attic,  Laura," 
she  said. 

"  Two  of  'em,"  said  Laura  bitterly.  "  Each  died  its 
own  lingering  death." 

"  I  saw  one  with  a  crimson  border." 

"  The  other  's  brown.    And  the  middles  are  both  gone." 

"  And  this  is  old-gold  and  olive,  and  this  middle  is  — 


BUTTERED   CRUSTS.  61 

in  decline.  There  's  a  dark  olive-green  drugget  up  there 
not  worn  out." 

"I  know.  Charlotte  sent  me  that  when  they  moved. 
It  was  on  her  little  library." 

"  I  'd  throw  away  the  middles,  and  take  the  borders ; 
then  I  'd  cut  the  drugget  into  narrow  strips.  The  colors 
are  all  lovely  with  each  other.  I  know  a  way  with  ma- 
crame  twine  to  make  seams  and  edges ;  I  'd  put  them 
together  ;  I  'd  paint  a  dark  -  green  floor  -  border ;  and  I 
would  n't  thank  you  for  inlaid  woods  and  Daghestan  !  " 

"  I  would  you,  though  !  Thankye,  you  're  a  born  con 
triver  !  " 

"  Non  nascitur.  Only  a  '  fit.'  I  take  one  now  and 
again.  It  uses  me  up,  though.  Make  the  most  of  me 
while  the  full  strength  's  on.  Let 's  go  to  work." 

And  up  in  the  attic  they  did  go  to  work  ;  Midget  Madge 
and  Bobby  blissful  among  forgotten  and  unknown  treasures 
—  a  gracious  rain  hammering  upon  the  skylights,  and 
Runy  digging  out  tacks  from  the  carpet  below,  fearless  of 
door-bells.  When  Stewart  Frost  came  home  that  night, 
and  for  several  nights  thereafter,  he  stepped  in  upon  a 
clean,  bare  floor  which  thrust  unspoken  misgivings  upon 
his  mind  as  to  how  Frau  Laura  expected  to  cover  it  again  ; 
for  he  had  quite  agreed  with  her  statement,  that  "  when 
that  carpet  was  shaken  it  would  shake  into  shoddy." 

The  third  night  a  broad  painted  band  of  Venetian  red 
lay  along  the  edges.  And  two  or  three  more  days  went 
on  in  a  masonic  mystery. 

On  the  Saturday  evening,  under  the  clear  light  of  a 
high-raised  double-burner,  with  an  extra  illumination  at 
the  landing  above,  stretched  beautiful  completed  pathways 
in  lines  of  old-gold  and  olive,  dark-red  and  russet,  myste 
riously  joined  with  ribs  of  strong,  soft  gray,  upon  dividing 
stripes  of  deep,  dull  green.  The  ends  were  fastened  down 
by  brass  rings  around  bright-headed  screws. 


62  HOMESPUN  YARNS. 

61  New  style,"  said  Laura  complacently. 

"  How  much  ?  "  inquired  Stewart  concisely. 

"  Let  me  see.  Twine,  paint,  tacks,  rings,  screws  — 
about  two  dollars  and  seventy-five  cents." 

"  Carpet  left  out." 

"  Carpet-Hmfc  brought  out  —  with  flying  colors !  Thank 
Thankye.  And  to-morrow  order  your  overcoat  and  draw 
upon  a  saved-up  balance  in  my  bureau-drawer,  that  is  n't 
otherwise  wanted." 

That  scored  off  two  things,  and  literally  paved  the  way 
for  the  Middies'  party.  But  with  this  arose  fresh  diffi 
culty —  supper  favors. 

"  Everybody  always  has  a  basket  full  right  after  the  ice 
cream,"  said  first  Middy,  laying  down  the  law. 

"  Steamboats,  and  elephants,  and  locomotives,  and  cam 
els,  and  wheelbarrows,  and  jackstraws,  and"  — 

•"  Fans,"  supplied  Madge. 

"  O  yes,  p-f-ans !  "  finished  second  Middy,  with  boy- 
scorn  that  took  two  consonants. 

"If  your  party  depends  on  that,"  said  Mrs.  Laura 
calmly,  "  I  think  it  will  have  to  wait  a  few  years  till 
papa's  ship  comes  in." 

"  I  don't  believe  that  ship  has  ever  started  yet,  or  ever 
will  get  here !  "  And  "  No  more  don't  I !  "  ejaculated 
the  two  Middies  in  rapid  order. 

"  Oh,  I  wish  you  would  only  "  —  began  Thankful. 

"  Don't  wish,  Thankye,  for  you  know  I  won't,"  broke 
in  Laura,  as  quick  of  response  as  the  boys. 

"  It  is  n't  Christian,"  remonstrated  Thankful.  "  It's  just 
what  you'd  wish  in  my  place." 

•'  And  just  what  you  would  n't  do  in  mine,"  retorted  un 
manageable  Mrs.  Laura. 

"Well !  I  see  the  beauty  of  first  and  last  exchanging 
places.  When  people  try  each  other's  predicaments  they  '11 


BUTTERED    CRUSTS.  63 

learn  just  what  they  do  want.  It  takes  double  reflections 
—  mirrors  set  opposite  —  to  get  the  everlasting  view. 
Blessed  are  those  that  have  n't  looked  in  the  glass  and  yet 
have  behaved  themselves.  Don't  despair,  boys ;  there  's 
a  way  out  through  bushel  basket-fulls  of  won'ts  and 
can'ts ! " 

The  next  day  she  said  meekly  to  Laura,  "  Will  you  give 
me  one  dollar  for  the  supper  favors,  to  spend  at  discre 
tion?  " 

And  Laura  quite  gravely  counted  out  three  quarters, 
two  ten-cents,  and  a  nickel  from  her  small-change  box. 

"  If  you  will  please  return  memorandum  of  disburse 
ments,"  she  said. 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  charging  shopping  commission  !  "  cried 
Thankful  jubilantly,  for  the  birthday  party  was  thus  ad 
mitted  for  granted. 

"  No  supper  favors,  and  nothing  particular  to  do  ! "  ex 
claimed  Ethelind  gloomily.  "  What  is  the  use  of  asking 
those  boys  from  the  Brim  ?  " 

"  To  let  them  brim  over,"  answered  Thankful ;  but 
Ethelind  was  not  so  sure  they  would  appreciate  that. 

Thankful  took  herself  into  council,  with  a  scrap  she  had 
cut  from  a  newspaper  column. 

"  '  Bubble  parties  —  all  the  rage  in  London  —  oleate  of 
soda '  (whatever  that  is),  '  and  glycerine.'  First  of  all, 
I  '11  go  to  a  chemist." 

"  Points  and  results  "  must  be  the  motto  in  brief  lim 
its. 

"  Right  after  the  ice-cream,"  on  the  evening  of  the 
tenth  —  the  boys  from  the  Slope  having  come  in  joyful 
numbers,  and  some  "  real  good  fellows  "  even  from  the 
Flat,  while  the  half-dozen  from  the  Brim  came  to  see 
what  they  would  make  of  it,  and  additionally  because  they 
were  boys,  after  all,  with  like  proclivities  for  ice-cream 


64  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

and  cakes  with  the  ordinary  sort  —  "  Miss  Thankye,"  as 
they  all  fell  into  calling  her,  unfastened  a  quiver-shaped 
straw  basket  that  hung  from  the  gasalier  above  the  birth 
day  cakes  with  their  garlands  of  nine  and  eleven  stars  — 
and  began  dispensing  its  rather  curious  contents.  At  the 
same  time,  a  large  bowl  was  set  at  the  end  of  the  table, 
which  had  been  rapidly  cleared,  and  along  which  Mrs. 
Frost  had  thrown  a  double  length  of  crimson  blanket  that 
glowed  rich  and  soft  under  the  bright  light.  Thankful 
meanwhile  went  round  with  the  favors.  These  were  to 
each  boy  and  girl  a  pipe  prettily  decorated  by  herself  in 
oil  colors,  and  an  accompanying  little  bottle  of  some  thick- 
ish,  semitransparent  fluid,  the  stopper  daintily  tied  down 
with  a  narrow  ribbon  of  red,  blue,  or  gold-color. 

"Magic  pipes  and  elixir  of  sunbeams,"  she  exclaimed 
as  she  went  about,  "  to  blow  such  bubbles  as  you  never 
heard  of,  and  to  carry  home  for  blowing  more." 

Then  there  was  an  eager  gathering  round  the  big  bowl, 
and  a  blowing  in  turn  of  great,  filmy,  marvelously  tena 
cious  globes,  that  swelled  and  thinned  till  countless  glo 
rious  changes  of  crimson,  rose,  flame-color,  primrose,  blue, 
pale-violet,  were  reflected  in  them,  sweeping  and  blending 
round  their  lovely  curves  as  they  dropped  on  the  soft 
woollen,  or  floated  like  a  little  universe  of  liquid  planets 
in  the  lighted  space.  And  they  rolled  or  wafted  till  the 
room  seemed  full.  They  even  piled  one  upon  another. 
The  children  caught  them  on  their  hands  and  blew  them 
off  again  ;  they  raced  them  ;  they  played  fairy-tennis  with 
them ;  and  by  and  by  came  ringings  at  the  door  announc 
ing  carriages  and  servants,  and  word  was  brought  in  for 
most  reluctant  departures,  only  comforted  by  the  future 
delight  sealed  up  for  them  in  Miss  Thankful's  cheap  but 
enchanting  party-favors. 

"  Nothing  particular  to  do  ?  "     It  had  been  more  par- 


BUTTERED   CRUSTS.  65 

ticular,  more  stunningly  successful,  than  anything  on  rec 
ord  from  Brim  to  Basin. 

"  Those  Frosts  know  things,  anyhow !  "  was  Kist  Stern- 
haugh's  verdict  as  he  went  up  the  hill,  and  Win  Trupeare 
shouted  back : 

"  You  bet  they  do !  And  how  to  pick  out  a  fair  sort  of 
fellows,  too,  here  or  there.  It  was  just  a  first-rate  crowd 
and  time ;  and  that  Aunt  Thankye  is  a  queen  of  trumps, 
and  I  say  it !  " 

Thankful  rendered  in  her  account  to  Laura  in  the  morn 
ing,  with  a  charge  of  fifteen  cents  exceeded  on  the  rib 
bons. 

The  Mite  was  at  her  mightiest  that  next  morning.  Bub 
bles,  ice-cream,  nine  o'clock,  had  keyed  her  up  to  concert- 
pitch,  and  she  would  n't  come  down.  Double  elder  sister 
power  failed  to  persuade  her  properly  into  her  clothes. 
The  steel  button-hook  fell  on  her  bare  knee  as  Celia  strug 
gled  with  her  boots.  That  closed  the  electric  circuit. 
There  came  shock  and  outcry.  Thankful  looked  in  from 
her  opposite  room. 

"  She  won't  have  her  stockings  strapped,  and  she  wants 
everything  done  wrong  end  foremost,  as  she  has  got  out 
of  bed.  Look  at  her  hat !  "  cried  Celia. 

Bare -legged  and  bare-shouldered,  her  little  petticoats 
hanging  about  her  unfastened,  Midget  had  set  the  gay- 
lined  hat,  with  its  perk  Alsatian  bow  turned  round  behind, 
in  a  wild,  determined  slant  over  her  uncombed  curls.  The 
face  beneath  was  full  of  naughty  fun,  dashed  with  cross 
ness. 

"  My  Oddy-doddy  is  crying  for  me,"  she  said.  "  Out 
in  the  yard.  And  they  won't  be  quick  at  all." 

"  Boiling  up  with  mischief,  and  crusty  with  contrari 
ness,  she  is,  the  crater,"  said  Ethelind,  out  of  her  towel. 

"  And  they  drop  cold  things  on  me,"  plained  away  the 
Midget.  "  And  they  have  gone  down  my  stocking." 


66  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

"  Which  they  would  n't  have  done  if  the  little  straps 
had  been  clasped,"  said  Thankful,  stooping  down  to  the 
work  Celia  had  left  in  indignation. 

"  Or  if  she  had  n't  jumped  like  a  grasshopper,  and  stuck 
her  elbow  into  my  eye,"  said  injured  Celia. 

"  Once  there  was  a  grasshopper,"  Thankful  began  at 
random,  catching  at  the  word,  and  drawing  up  the  stock 
ing  out  of  which  she  had  fished  the  offending  hook. 

"Well?"  encouraged  Madge,  suffering  the  strap  to  be 
fastened,  and  magnanimously  offering  the  other  leg. 

"And  he  was  hopping  gently  along  in  the  field  under 
a  row  of  hedge.  It  had  rained  the  night  before ;  little 
drops  were  hanging,  round  and  shiny,  on  the  stems  and 
branches.  One  of  them  fell  from  the  end  of  a  twig 
(here  the  hat  was  tossed  off  and  the  petticoat  buttoned), 
and  caught  on  a  spire  of  grass  (sponge,  Ethel !),  and 
bent  —  it  —  down  —  (now  towel  and  brush  !)  and  so  slid 
—  right  on  —  to  Mr.  Grasshopper's  knee,  which  was 
kinked  up  behind  him  ;  '  Chow  ! '  says  the  grasshopper  ; 
and  he  frightened  three  ladybugs,  and  a  spider,  and  a 
long-legs,  and  gave  a  great  jump,  right  —  over  —  the 
bushes —  (now  the  little  gown  !)  into  the  next  field,  where 
he  had  never  been  in  all  his  life.  And  what  do  you  think 
he  came  down  in  ?  People  never  know  how  that  will  be 
when  they  cry  out  at  little  troubles,  and  jump  without 
looking.  It  was  a  miserable  —  dirty  —  yellow  puddle. 
And  he  did  n't  have  time  to  say  '  Chow  !  '  It  was  too 
serious  to  speak  about  this  time.  It  took  him  all  the 
forenoon  to  get  out  again,  and  to  dry  himself  on  a  clean 
rock  in  the  sun.  What  if  the  rocks  and  trees  said  '  Chow  !  ' 
and  jumped  up  out  of  the  ground  and  made  a  great 
earthquake,  when  the  rain  came  down  on  them  ?  Why, 
if  things  did  n't  keep  bravely  and  pleasantly  in  their 
places,  a  little  drop  of  water  might  upset  the  world  ! 
There  ;  now  you  're  all  ready  —  do  you  see  ?  " 


BUTTERED   CRUSTS.  67 

"  Well,  I  did  n't  expect  to  be  so  good,"  piped  the  Midget, 
apologetically.  "  Only,  for  I  am,  I  guess  I  '11  go  and  find 
my  Oddy-docldy." 

"  That  the  '  tragedy  of  the  unexpected  '  has  happened, 
let  us  be  content,"  remarked  Thankful,  getting  up  to  go 
also. 

"  Yes,  till  to-morrow  morning,"  said  Celia.  "But 
whoever  's  to  invent  grasshoppers,  and  crickets,  and  katy 
dids,  and  kangaroos,  to  keep  up  with  her  jumps,  is  going 
to  have  a  lively  time  of  it  —  all  except  getting  to  break 
fast  themselves  !  " 

"  '  Sufficient  unto  the  day,'  "  quoted  Thankful,  disap 
pearing. 

"  Sufficient  unto  the  Saturdays,  anyway,"  suggested 
Ethelind,  significantly. 

"  Oh  Ethel !  "  wailed  Celia.  "  My  stocking-bag  !  Unto 
a  solid  week  of  Saturdays  !  " 

"  Should  n't  have  a  stocking-bag,"  admonished  Ethe 
lind,  severely  wise.  "  What 's  the  use  of  keeping  miseries 
stored  up  by  the  sackful  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  know,  you  're  always  for  grabbing  things  by  the 
throat,  and  making  a  deadly  tussle,  to  have  it  over  with. 
But  it  is  n't.  It  comes  round  every  week." 

"  Why  a  tussle  at  all  ?  "  sounded  cheerily  from  Thank- 
ful's  side  again. 

"  Oh  Aunt  Thankye  !  I  just  do  hate  mending,  of 
course  !  "  To  which  Thankful  quietly  answered : 

"  So  do  I." 

"Well,  then?"  triumphantly. 

"  In  the  abstract." 

"  Oh  !  if  it  would  only  stay  in  the  abstract,  I  would  n't 
bother  with  hating.  It 's  always  —  the  other  thing." 

"  And  so,"  continued  Thankful,  "  I  always  make  the 
concrete  comfortable.  Dainties  se  laissent  manger.  Mend- 


68  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

ing  is  a  thing  to  take  a  relish  with.  Bring  yours  to  my 
room  to-day." 

"  May  I  come  too  ?  With  Ocldy-doddy  ?  "  cried  out 
Madge,  struggling  up  the  stairs  with  the  yellow  cat  in  her 
arms. 

"  Will  you  he  concrete  ?  "  Celia  demanded  awfully. 

"  Yes.     Or  I  '11  see  ahout  it.     What  is  con-treat  ?  " 

"  Sorry  and  ashamed  :  and  bringing  along  your  mend 
ing,"  said  Ethelind. 

"  I  've  some  mending  for  the  Mite,"  said  Thankful,  in 
a  tone  of  promise. 

"  If  your  name  had  been  Agamemnonia,  we  should 
have  called  you  Thankye  all  the  same,"  said  Ethelind. 
"  It 's  all  you  give  a  chance  for." 

"  And  Midget !  If  you  '11  come  to  see  me  —  all  dressed 
—  to-morrow  morning,  at  one  minute  before  eight,  some 
thing  pretty  will  be  just  ready  to  happen.  It  won't  hap 
pen  an  instant  after  eight,  remember." 

I  may  put  in  here  for  brevity,  that  Thankful  unpacked 
that  night  a  certain  small,  square  box  which  she  had  not 
opened  since  her  arrival ;  and  that  she  took  from  it  and 
hung  up  in  her  room  a  beautiful  Swiss  cuckoo  clock,  whose 
striking-weight  she  only  put  on  in  time  for  the  little  bird 
to  fly  out  and  chirrup  the  hour  at  eight  o'clock  ;  and  that 
Madge  scarcely  ever  failed  thereafter  to  present  herself 
in  breakfast  trim  in  time  to  see  and  hear  the  lovely  won 
der  which  she  was  never  weary  of ;  and  that,  above  all, 
Aunt  Thankye  told  her  that  when  she  should  be  six  years 
old  —  if  the  whole  family  would  vote  that  she  deserved 
it  —  she  should  have  the  clock  for  her  own,  in  her  own 
little  room.  After  which,  at  any  threatened  escapade  or 
perversity,  it  needed  no  more  than  to  say  "  cuckoo!  "  to 
bring  the  Midget  to  reason. 

Madge's  mending  turned  out  to  be  the  re-stringing  of  a 


BUTTERED   CRUSTS.  69 

lovely  lot  of  lava  beads  of  every  color  —  blue,  orange, 
green,  black,  and  white  ;  deep  and  pale  reds  and  browns ; 
soft  buffs  and  grays.  Ethel  and  Celia  dropped  them 
through  their  fingers,  and  spread  them  about  in  the  large 
shallow  box  in  which  they  were  intrusted  to  Midget,  with 
delight. 

"  Here  is  a  strong,  slim  needle,  and  here  a  fine  silk 
cord,"  said  Thankful.  "  Now,  as  long  as  you  keep  them 
in  the  box  and  on  the  string,  you  may  work  at  them, 
Mite.  And  you  may  place  the  colors  as  you  please." 

Celia  had  lugged  in  the  stocking-bag,  from  which,  like 
threads  from  a  snarl,  she  was  wont  to  draw  out  and 
pair  as  she  could,  upon  emergency,  such  legs  and  feet  as 
showed  least  delapidation.  "  If  I  could  only  once  see  to 
the  bottom  of  this  !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  But,  oh,  how  be 
witching  !  " 

The  bewitching  thing  now  was  a  darning  -  case  that 
Thankful  was  unrolling.  Through  stitched  slips  of  silk- 
lined  kid  ran  smooth  cut  skeins  of  cottons  and  threads, 
in  various  colors,  as  the  hosiery  of  the  present  day  de 
mands.  Across  the  top  was  a  narrow  cushion,  upon  which 
bristled  a  bright  rank  of  ready  threaded  needles,  dropping 
their  deep,  even  fringe  in  stripes  of  white,  gray,  brown 
and  red. 

"  Use  them  up  for  me,"  Thankful  said  to  the  admiring 
girls,  pinning  the  pretty  furnisher  with  two  thumb-tacks 
to  the  window-sill  beside  them.  "  I  've  another  just  now, 
with  only  black  and  gray. 

"  You  see,  I  always  thread  a  lot  of  needles  all  at  once  ; 
the  chief  tiresomeness  is  the  stopping  to  do  that  and  let 
ting  go  your  stretcher  in  the  middle  of  a  darn.  I  just 
stick  up  one  and  take  down  another.  What  do  you  use 
for  stretchers  ?  " 

"  Eggs.     They  're  a  nuisance.     Toadstools  are  better." 


70  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

"  Try  these  egg-cups.  Hold  by  the  stems,  and  darn 
across  the  rims." 

"  What  alleviations  !  "  ejaculated  Ethelind. 

"  Oh,  that  is  n't  aU  !  "  said  Thankful.  She  unfolded  a 
lap-table,  set  it  up,  put  a  book-easel  upon  it,  and  on  that 
opened  "  Lady  Betty's  Governess." 

"  We  '11  have  that,"  she  said,  "  to  wile  the  monotony. 
With  no  needles  to  thread,  we  can  read  and  darn,  both 
quite  smoothly.  And  here  are  tJiese.  Nobody  can  have 
more  than  one  after  each  pair  —  or  repair  —  which  must 
take  at  least  ten  minutes.  Mitey,  you  shall  have  one 
after  every  thirty  beads  and  no  spill.  Put  a  black  bead 
every  tenth  one." 

"  These  "  were  delicious  Huyler's  chocolates  —  simple 
nonpareils  for  Mite  ;  the  richer  bonnes  -  bouches  for  her 
elders. 

"  How  utterly  Three-jolly-fellowship-porterish  !  "  cried 
Ethelind  again. 

The  morning  sped  ;  darning  was  "  linked  sweetness," 
not  seeming  long  drawn  out ;  Madge  strung  half  her 
beads,  slid  down  along  her  cushion,  and  fell  asleep  to 
the  pleasant  sound  of  the  quaint  sentences  of  the  Cor 
bet  Chronicle ;  and  by  the  time  it  had  come  to  where 
Margaret  Corbet  was  taken  to  task  by  the  Lady  Jemima, 
and  just  as  the  clock  struck  eleven,  Thankful  and  Ethe 
lind  had  finished  all  of  their  own  work  that  was  at  hand. 

"  Now  we  might  help  Celia,"  suggested  Thankful. 

"  Or  go  for  the  oubliette,"  said  Ethelind. 

"  The  oubliette  ?  "  queried  Thankful,  astonished. 

"Yes.  That  's  the  family  mending-basket.  Mummer 
has  to  keep  things  round  in  funerals." 

"  Funerals  !  " 

"  That  was  Madge's  idea  when  she  first  rode  by  a  cem 
etery  and  had  the  white  stones  explained  to  her.  She 


BUTTERED   CRUSTS.  71 

thought  it  would  be  a  nicer  way  to  '  keep  them  round  in 
pessorsions.'  I  think  the  mending-baskets  are  a  good 
deal  like  it." 

Celia  really  saw  the  bottom  of  her  bag  by  one  o'clock  ; 
there  was  much  brought  back  to  light  and  usefulness  from 
Mummer's  deep  "  oubliette ; "  Midget  had  waked  and 
gone  off  with  a  handful  of  nonpareils  to  the  Middies  in 
their  tool-room  ;  and  the  Chronicle  had  got  to  the  ghost 
story  of  the  Halting  Knight  in  the  long  armor-gallery. 

"  Must  we  really  stop  ?  I  shall  be  miserable  till  I  have 
more  miseries  to  assuage,"  said  Ethelind. 

"You  may  say  'assuage'!"  cried  Celia.  "It's  these 
cups  that  cheer.  Why  didn't  we  invent  them  when  we 
were  cramping  our  fingers  and  bending  our  needles  round 
those  wretched  eggs  ?  Oh,  dear  !  I  shall  only  have  three 
pairs  of  stockings  next  Saturday,  unless  I  tear  some 
thing  !  " 

"  We  can  borrow  trouble  any  time,"  said  Ethel. 
"There  's  always  this."  And  she  took  up  the  oubliette  to 
carry  it  away. 

"  And  we  can  rip  up  old  dresses  to  make  over,  and  sew 
all  the  buttons  on  all  the  boots ;  and  hem  dish-towels ;  and 
make  rags  into  holders ;  and  do  all  sorts  of  lovely  hate 
ful  things,"  exulted  Celia. 

"And  I  have  something  else  to  propose  —  when  I  have 
asked  your  mother,"  said  Thankful. 

Mrs.  Laura  was  asked,  and  reasoned  into  it ;  then 
Thankful  said  to  the  girls,  "  Would  you  like  to  earn  the 
money  for  the  French  conversations  ?  " 

She  had  three  summer  dresses  not  made  up  —  pur 
chases  of  the  late  season  at  the  marking-down ;  two  lovely 
linen  lawns,  one  figured  in  black  with  tiny  bows  and 
feathered  arrows,  the  other  with  true-love  knots  as  dainty ; 
and  a  pale-gray  nun's-veiling  like  a  filmy  cloud.  These 


72  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

were  to  be  simply  fashioned  by  an  easy  pattern  ;  but  they 
were  to  have  much  delicate  frilling  and  side  plaiting. 
Why  pay  a  dressmaker  ten  dollars  each,  when  here  was  a 
pair  of  deft  and  ready  hands  for  every  one  ?  There  fol 
lowed  delightful  sewing  hours  for  weeks,  in  Thankful's 
pleasant  room ;  the  conversation  class  began  meantime, 
and  all  three  joined  —  "  two  with  their  earnings,  one  with 
her  savings,"  Thankful  said.  Home  practice  came  in  with 
the  frills  and  hemmings  ;  and  their  readings  of  charming 
old-time  stories  continued.  They  finished  "  Lady  Betty's 
Governess,"  followed  it  with  "  Lady  Rosamond's  Book," 
and  afterwards  luxuriated  through  the  inimitable  "  Old 
Chelsea  Bun-house,"  and  the  "  Ladies  of  Bever  Hollow." 

Four  of  the  seven  family  wants  were  met  without  sac 
rifice,  the  other  three  Thankful  had  her  own  thoughts 
about. 

"  You  can't  turn  Santa  Glaus  from  the  house,  any 
how  !  "  she  declared,  in  one  of  her  little  arguments  with 
Frau  Laura. 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  that  uncapitulating  person  ; 
"  if  he  should  come  with  a  packet  too  big  for  our  chim- 
ney." 

"  He  does  n't  mind  an  extra  up  and  down  ;  and  where 
there  's  a  will  there  's  a  way,  if  it 's  through  the  roof," 
said  Thankful,  walking  off  with  the  last  word. 

But  before  Christmas  several  extraordinary  things  hap 
pened  ;  and  all  at  once,  as  strange  things  do. 

Miss  Salva  Peniworth  came  out  from  New  York,  brav 
ing  the  icy  ferry-passage,  and  spent  a  whole  day  at  Broad- 
top.  To  see  Thankful,  of  course,  Laura  considered ; 
Thankful  had  been  several  times  to  Thirty-first  street, 
dutifully.  Not  only  so,  however :  she  really  and  truly 
liked  Aunt  Salva ;  the  real  and  true  of  her,  which  Miss 
Peniworth  hid  away  from  herself.  Not  merely  so,  again  : 


BUTTERED   CRUSTS.  73 

she  believed  Aunt  Salva  held  herself  by  great  stress  from 
liking  Laura ;  testing  her  at  a  length  that  was  exhausting 
the  life-chance  for  any  yielding ;  and  that  Laura  might 
have  had  some  kindlier  impulse  toward  Aunt  Salva,  but 
that  she  was  so  bent  on  never  lowering  an  eyelash  in  defer 
ence,  for  fear  of  the  motive  that  might  be  imputed. 

Between  these,  Thankful's  to-and-fros  had  to  be  most 
nicely  measured.  Yet  they  measured  themselves,  without 
policy,  simply  because  she  could  convey  no  impression  that 
she  had  not  within  herself,  and  her  thought  and  certainty 
of  each  was  so  honestly  of  the  best.  This  is  the  true  and 
only  mediation. 

Aunt  Salva  held  her  chin  high,  and  sometimes  sniffed, 
and  Laura  would  keep  dignified  silence,  at  any  innocently 
pleasant  mentions  relatively  suggestive  of  desert  or  secret 
appreciation.  Laura  never  gave  opening  for  such,  but 
with  Aunt  Salva,  if  Thankful  volunteered  nothing,  there 
was  not  wanting  some  little  flick  or  nudge  of  query  or  re 
mark. 

"  Of  course  you  pay  your  board,  and  that  must  help," 
Aunt  Salva  said. 

"  Five  dollars  a  week.  It  is  all  they  will  touch.  They 
say  it  costs  them  no  more." 

"  Humph  !  "  The  sound  was  gruff  ;  but  the  gray  eyes 
twinkled,  and  the  rough-set  wrinkles  relaxed. 

"  She  visits  on  the  Round  ?  " 

"  On  the  Brim  —  at  intervals.  She  returns  civilities  — 
at  the  front  doors.  She  won't  be  intimate.  The  Round 
is  extreme  privilege.  She  does  n't  go  in  and  out  and 
across,  though  they  have  asked  her.  She  says  '  thank 
you,'  and  takes  her  own  way,  all  the  same." 

"  Of  course  they  ask  her.     She  is  a  Peniworth." 

"  She  remembers  that ;  and  also  that  she  is  Mrs.  Stew 
art  Frost." 


74  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

"  Stewart  Frost  is  well  enough ;  but  he  '11  never  fire  the 
East  River.  And  I  hate  frowsiness,  and  I  abominate  ex 
travagance,  and  I  despise  looking  to  other  people.  How 
is  a  woman  to  shape  her  course  ?  " 

"If  you  were  at  Broadtop  oftener,  you  would  see." 

Aunt  Salva  came  to  Broadtop.  Laura,  though  she  pre 
tended,  even  to  herself,  not  to  care,  was  glad  of  her  neat, 
bright  entrance-way,  neither  frowsy  nor  extravagant,  and 
a  debt  to  no  one.  People  whose  harsh  counsel  or  criticism 
we  utterly  repel,  do  nevertheless  maintain  strange  pro 
tested  power  over  our  self-judgments.  Aunt  Salva  no 
ticed  and  understood  the  pretty  thrift  the  minute  she  set 
her  foot  upon  it ;  she  was  good  at  expedients  herself. 
But  she  would  not  have  spoken,  to  save  her  best  china 
dinner-service. 

That  same  morning  Laura  had  been  anxiously  ransack 
ing  boxes  and  drawers  for  a  certain  old  document  pres 
ently  wanted ;  it  concerned  some  wild  land  in  Iowa,  an 
inheritance  of  Stewart  Frost's,  which  the  agent  wrote 
might  now  be  sold.  One  must  not  buy  a  pig  in  a  poke, 
neither  should  one  too  readily  part  with  property  known 
only  to  one's  self  by  hearsay ;  yet  all  essentials  had  better 
be  looked  up.  The  important  paper  had  failed  to  be  found 
in  two  preceding  searches  by  Stewart ;  neither  had  Laura 
found  it  now.  It  was  a  worry,  and  it  had  put  about  the 
regular  day's  routine.  Upon  such  little  conjunctures  very 
particular  visits  are  apt  to  arrive. 

But  Laura  gathered  herself  up ;  she  put  by  the  search 
and  the  thought  of  it,  since  it  could  not  now  be  continued  ; 
she  had  that  gift  of  self-transference  which  is  a  grand 
thing  to  possess  in  this  displaced  interrupted  formation 
of  affairs  that  we  call  life ;  and  it  was  presently  quite  as 
if  Aunt  Salva's  visit  had  been  the  preconcerted  plan  and 
order  of  the  day. 


BUTTERED   CRUSTS.  75 

Laura  was  serenely  satisfied  with  her  house ;  there  was 
not  a  new  thing  in  it  since  Miss  Peniworth  came  there 
last ;  but  old  things  had  been  so  furbished  and  turned 
about  that  it  had  the  aspect  of  a  well-preserved  person 
ality  ;  a  little  different  with  time,  but  nothing  really  lost, 
and  all  kept  fresh  with  a  certain  adaptiveness  which  is  the 
secret  of  growing  old  with  grace,  either  for  furnishings 
or  faces. 

The  dinner  was  just  as  simple  as  it  could  be ;  but  a 
juicy  steak  with  boiled  rice  like  a  snow-heap,  and  cran 
berry  sauce,  done  precisely  to  the  jelly  turn,  and  shining 
from  the  mould  in  splendid  crimson  smoothness,  and  yel 
low  sweet  potatoes  such  as  are  fine  and  cheap  in  Jersey, — 
with  a  delicate  squash  pie  for  dessert ;  —  Aunt  Salva  could 
really  decline  nothing  either  from  lack  of  relish,  or  from 
sublime  refusal  to  enjoy  an  extravagance. 

And  Thankful  saw  to  it  that  the  Middies  had  clean 
hands ;  and  Midget  was  given  the  rice  to  help  to,  which 
so  put  her  on  her  dignity  that  she  was  sedate  even  to  an 
elderliness  ;  and  —  but  with  the  day's  visit  itself  we  have 
really  very  little  to  do. 

It  was  afterward  that  the  thing  happened  which 
changed  the  visit  into  an  event,  and  the  event  into  all  that 
came  of  it. 

Thankful  —  who  had  accompanied  Aunt  Salva  to  the 
station  and  seen  her  safely  seated  in  her  return  train  at 
four-fifteen,  on  her  ai'rival  by  which  her  own  carriage  was  to 
meet  her  at  Christopher  Street,  had  scarcely  reached  home 
again  after  a  stop  at  the  library,  and  things  had  but  just 
quieted  into  evening  comfort  at  the  Frosts',  when  there 
came  up  through  the  town  a  rush  and  horror  of  such  news 
as  comes  to  our  tea-tables  almost  daily  from  a  distance 
through  the  papers,  but  came  now  through  Broadtop  by 
breathless  word  of  mouth,  and  from  within  the  very  com- 


7G  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

pass  of  the  "  view  "  from  the  Brim  windows.  It  was  such 
a  very  different  thing. 

It  ran  along  the  streets  of  the  plain,  making  pale  faces 
as  it  went,  and  up  the  Slope,  from  dwelling  to  dwelling, 
to  the  exempt  and  separate  Round  itself,  that  might  not 
ordinarily  he  so  much  as  touched  by  little  lower,  local 
ferments. 

That  four-fifteen  train  had  come  to  grief,  a  mile  above, 
at  Southdale  Junction.  A  mishandled  switch  —  a  few 
freight-cars  on  a  siding  —  a  run-off  upon  it ;  one  car 
jammed  up  and  splintered  to  pieces  —  three  or  four  thrown 
off  against  a  walled  embankment. 

Three  persons  killed,  many  grievously  or  fatally  hurt. 
The  Broadtop  passengers,  mostly  in  the  last,  least  injured 
car,  were  sent  back  to  their  homes.  Other  sufferers  were 
following,  Broadtop  being  the  nearest  refuge.  Aunt  Salva, 
in  less  than  two  hours  from  her  leave-taking,  was  carried 
in  again  at  the  little  olive-colored  house  on  the  Slope,  with 
a  fractured  leg,  and  a  ragged  flesh  wound  from  some  end 
of  broken  iron. 

That  same  night  —  so  things  followed  —  Stewart  Frost 
came  down  from  New  York  to  meet  this  dreadful  sur 
prise,  heart-laden  with  serious  ill  news  of  his  own.  A 
Boston  man's  failure  had  been  announced ;  large,  scat 
tered  liabih'ties  —  assets  nearly  nothing ;  and  Stewart  had 
held  a  note  of  his,  had  got  it  discounted,  and  of  course 
indorsed  it  himself.  It  was  for  twenty -five  hundred  dollars, 
payable  at  the  North  National  Bank  in  Boston  on  the 
twenty-third  of  the  current  month. 

Here  were  real  heavy  pain  and  trouble.  Laura's  bonds 
must  go  now ;  and  though  the  western  land  should  be 
sold,  she  could  not  buy  them  back  again,  with  their  seven 
per  cent,  interest  that  had  always  paid  the  rent  of  the 
home.  Aunt  Salva  in  the  house  too,  at  the  very  climax ; 


BUTTERED   CRUSTS.  11 

helpless,  obliged  to  be  obliged  to  them  ;  that  making  it  all 
the  more  impossible  for  proud,  help-scorning  Laura  to  let 
her  know  their  strait.  Laura  and  her  husband  would  go 
on  caring  for  the  old  lady  in  hers,  though  it  were  with  the 
last  dollar,  and  never  let  her  dream  the  fact ;  they  would 
do  it  with  a  stiff,  cool  quietness,  lest  warmth  or  kindliness 
should  be  suspected  of  hope  or  satisfaction  in  the  oppor 
tunity  ;  and  Miss  Peniworth  would  take  them  at  their  self- 
presentation,  and  chafe  at  every  spoonful  of  broth  or 
gruel,  and  squirm  in  her  bed  at  every  footstep  up  and 
doAvn  in  her  service. 

Why  would  not  people  understand  each  other  ?  And 
why  must  everything  happen  in  a  heap  ? 

Bits  and  ederes  ?     But  here  was  the  whole  loaf  ! 


III. 

THE   WHOLE   LOAF. 

"  THERE  are  two  blue  boxes  in  the  high  wardrobe, 
Thankye,"  said  Mrs.  Laura  —  "  lint  and  bandages  ;  an 
inheritance  from  the  war." 

Thankful  went  to  look  for  them,  and  brought  back  a 
box  of  lint  and  a  bundle  of  yellow  papers.  "  Blue  Bluff 
Lands,  Iowa,"  was  written  on  the  wrapper.  "  They  were 
in  the  bandage-box,"  she  said. 

In  twenty  years,  things  supposed  all  the  while  un 
touched  may  easily  by  some  chance  have  happened  to  be 
shifted.  "  The  strips  got  used  probably,"  said  Laura, 
"  and  then  these  were  put  there." 

"  Was  n't  it  just  a  Providence  ?  "  she  exclaimed  to 
Stewart,  when  she  gave  him  the  lost  documents.  Stew 
art  drew  up  his  eyebrows. 

"  Funny  notions  you  women  have  of  Providence,"  he 


78  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

said.  "  An  old  woman's  leg  broken  —  to  say  nothing  of 
all  the  rest  of  the  maiming  and  murdering  —  to  bring  one 
old  deed  to  light  out  of  a  lint  box." 

"  I  never  said  it !  "  cried  Frau  Laura  indignantly. 
"  But  I  do  say  that  while  anybody  is  about  it,  all  sorts  of 
things  are  done  by  the  way  ;  and  that 's  the  reason,  per 
haps,  that  it  takes  a  woman  to  see  a  Providence." 

"  For  all  that,  dearie,  I  'm  afraid  this  particular  ar 
rangement  is  too  late  for  the  twenty-third." 

"  As  if  Providence  was  n't  arranging  at  both  ends !  " 
retorted  Laura,  whose  little  sermons  were  always  of  the 
free-spoken,  epigrammatic  sort.  "  We  '11  do  our  best,  and 
—  the  Lord  will  do  his  best!  "  And  with  that  word  the 
earnest  tears  stood  in  her  eyes.  Stewart  kissed  her,  and 
a  touch  of  her  faith  passed  into  his  heart,  more  live,  per 
haps,  than  if  she  had  preached  more  solemnly. 

Miss  Salva  sent  for  Miss  Sluyterhand,  the  companion 
housekeeper.  This  pacified  her  sense  of  undue  obligation 
somewhat ;  she  could  pay  Miss  Sluyterhand's  board,  and 
put  aside  those  irksome  services  of  her  kin.  But  it  made 
no  one  else  more  comfortable.  The  waiting  on  Miss 
Sluyterhand  by  no  means  passed  into  the  acknowledged 
account ;  and  that  personage  herself  inwardly  resented 
the  overthrow  of  certain  little  private  plans  and  calcula 
tions.  The  letter  was  already  written  which  was  to  sum 
mon  her  sister  and  niece  to  visit  her  in  New  York ;  the 
cook  and  the  butler  had  had  friendly  hints  of  a  possible 
little  vacation  in  their  turn  —  for  these  three  were  of  the 
wise  in  their  generation  in  the  making  of  friends  of  the 
mammon  of  unrighteousness  ;  and  now  to  be  boxed  up  here 
to  nurse  Miss  Peniworth,  "  amongst  forty  children  and  a 
girl  of  all  work  !  "  it  was  a  choking  exasperation.  Miss 
Peniworth  knew  very  well  what  her  dependant's  services 
were  worth ;  that  was  why  she  employed  them.  She  would 


BUTTERED   CRUSTS.  79 

have  no  heart  thrown  in  that  could  not  be  reckoned  and 
paid  for  ;  she  would  have  "  no  mixing  up  with  her  own." 
Well,  she  had  maintained  her  principle  so  far,  but  now 
some  other  power  and  plan  had  interfered.  And  as  Mrs. 
Laura  said,  Providence  does  many  things  by  the  way. 

Miss  Salva  often  snubbed  Miss  Sluyterhand.  That  also 
was  tacitly  in  the  bargain. 

"  You  may  go  to  walk,  or  to  bed,"  she  said  to  her  one 
afternoon.  "  I  '11  have  some  of  the  children  in.  I  sha'n't 
want  my  tonic  and  jelly  till  six  o'clock,  and  I  want  to  be 
amused." 

Certainly  Miss  Sluyterhand  was  not  amusing.  But  it 
did  not  divert  her  to  be  told  so,  or  to  be  contrasted  dis 
paragingly  with  Bobby  Frost,  who  presently  came  in,  as 
to  the  presence  of  Old  King  Cole,  with  pipe  and  bowl, 
which  it  had  occurred  to  him  might  please  Miss  Peni- 
worth. 

"  You  see,"  he  said  to  that  groaned-up  lady,  whom  now 
that  she  was  literally  groaned-up,  he  commiserated  — 
"  you  see,  all  these  bubbles  that  stay  round  on  the  drug 
get  "  —  and  he  dropped  another  shining  sphere,  to  Aunt 
Salva's  real  wonderment,  among  the  rolling,  glittering 
crowd  —  "  are  good  things  you  go  and  do."  He  was  re 
producing  a  certain  little  lesson  Aunt  Thankful  had  read 
to  him,  but  Miss  Peniworth  could  only  guess  at  that. 
"  The  water  is  just  the  pothsibility.  There  has  to  be 
something  that  makes  the  water  stick  together  tight. 
That's  when  you  say  'I  will,'  real  strong;  put  glythce- 
rine  in  it.  And  then  you  blow  ; "  Bobby  stopped  to  illus 
trate  with  a  green  and  golden  ball ;  "  that 's  the  breather- 
life  in  it.  And  then  "  —  he  rolled  the  beautiful  thing 
down  before  him,  all  throbbing  with  splendid  hues  —  "  the 
Lord  puts  the  colors  in,  and  makes  it  thshine !  " 

"  Where  did  you  get  that,  and  who  told  you  to  tell 
me  ?  "  demanded  Miss  Salva  from  her  pillow. 


80  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

Bobby  looked  up  with  eyes  as  pure  and  shining  with 
sweet  color  as  his  globes. 

"  Why,  Aunt  Thankye  !  She  knows  lots.  And  nobody 
told  me.  It  isn't  a  methsizhe."  But  presently  Bobby 
took  himself  off,  very  much  as  if  he  had  discharged  his 
errand,  and  left  Aunt  Salva  with  the  bubbles  shining  on 
the  floor,  and  the  "  message  "  turning  over  in  some  won 
derful  new  light  within  her  mind. 

Somehow,  from  pure  pity,  certainly  from  no  instigation, 
the  youthful  life  of  the  house  gathered  around  that  bed  of 
imprisonment,  and  poured  its  best  out  for  its  soothing. 

Ethelind  read  excellently ;  Aunt  Salva  discovered  it 
from  her  rendering  to  her,  at  request,  the  columns  of  the 
"  New  York  Times."  Afterward,  as  magnanimously  suf 
fering  a  kindness,  the  old  lady  had  said,  ''You  might  bring 
a  book,  if  you  like."  And  Ethelind  brought  her  favorite 
"  Lady  Betty"  and  "Lady  Rosamond." 

"  Are  n't  you  afraid  of  the  Lady  Jemima  and  Sister 
Catherine  parts  ? "  asked  Celia,  outside  the  door  one 
morning. 

"  Why,  no  !     Aunt  Salva  is  n't  a  '  religious  ' !  " 

"  She  preaches,  though,  and  regulates.  And  she  's  got 
a  creed,  a  stiff  one.  '  A  Peniworth  is  a  Peniworth.' 
There  's  all  sorts  ;  any  kind  of  oughty  is  piousness ;  and 
she  's  very  oughty." 

"  Any  kind  of  naughty  is  wickedness  ;  and  you  're  very 
naughty,"  said  Ethel  with  grim  gravity.  There  was  a 
touch  of  Peniworth  uncompromisingness  about  herself  that 
owned  kindred  with  Aunt  Salva. 

It  was  Celia's  proposition,  however,  on  the  Saturday, 
that  the  "three  jolly  fellowships"  should  "sympose"  in 
Aunt  Salva's  room.  So  they  came,  Madge  and  Oddy- 
doddy  linked  on  as  usual,  the  former  with  big  ivory  cro 
chet-needle  and  rug-yarn,  to  which  she  had  been  pro- 


BUTTERED  CRUSTS.  81 

motecl,  and  Ethel  fetching  the  dear  old  "  Neighbors  ; " 
for  they  were  just  discovering  Miss  Bremer  and  her 
Swedeland  home  pictures  out  of  their  forty  years'  anti 
quity  ;  Miss  Peniworth  had  never  read  them  in  her  day, 
simply  because  all  the  world  went  so  ridiculously  wild 
over  them. 

"  We  're  coming  down  upon  you,"  said  Ethelind  ;  "  book, 
bags,  basket,  bonbons,  oubliette,  and  all." 

"  And  Oddy-doddy,"  quoth  Madge.  "  But  you  need  to 
be  com-plete,  you  know." 

"  What  ?  "  demanded  the  old  lady  with  the  broken  leg. 

"  Oh,  only  to  be  sorry,  and  to  bring  your  mending," 
quoted  the  child  in  explanation,  delivering  a  whole  gospel 
unawares.  And  Aunt  Salva's  great  gray  eyes  followed  her 
and  Oddy-doddy  round  the  room  in  stern  amaze. 

Mrs.  Laura  looked  vexed  when  she  entered  later  with 
the  invalid's  claret  and  biscuits.  "  I  thought  you  knew 
better  !  "  she  said  to  Thankful.  She  was  sure  it  would 
seem  to  Aunt  Salva  like  a  premeditated  show.  But  Aunt 
Salva  could  see  through  things,  both  ways. 

"  You  need  n't  worry  !  "  she  said  sharply  to  Laura. 
"  You  're  no  goose,  nor  yet  ostrich.  I  should  n't  suspect 
you  of  eggs  laid  on  top  of  the  sand." 

These  two  women  shot  very  straight  at  one  another, 
without  even  training  their  guns. 

As  Christmas  drew  nearer,  the  Middies,  and  Bobby, 
and  Madge  were  strangely  perplexed  at  the  hushings-up 
they  got.  It  seemed  as  if  Christmas  were  suddenly  an 
unutterable  "  bad  word,"  and  Santa  Glaus  a  disreputable 
person  not  to  be  alluded  to.  They  had  always  had  their 
blessed  little  transparent  mysteries,  but  the  mysteries  were 
never  before  forbidden  to  be  talked  about ;  indeed,  the 
ail-but  tellings,  and  the  elaborate  hints,  had  heretofore 
6 


82  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

been  the  most  delightfully  exciting  part  of  it.  Bobby  and 
Madge  would  whisper  and  consult  in  spite  of  hushings,  on 
their  favorite  confidential  landing  just  outside  the  spare 
chamber-door. 

"  Perhaps  she  won't  hang  up  her  stocking  at  all,"  said 
Bobby.  "  If  she  does,  I  shall  put  in  a  pipe  and  a  bottle. 
They  don't  cothst  muthsh." 

"  I  'd  give  her  my  Oddy-doddy,"  said  Madge,  "  only 
she 's  such  a  scratch-cat  to  people  she  don't  know  and 
that  don't  know  her." 

"  I  should  n't  think  a  Chrithshmas  thing  would  scrathsh 
anybody,"  said  Bobby. 

"  I  guess  you  're  thinking  of  Christian  things  ;  and  cats 
ain't  Christian,  not  even  in  stockings,"  said  Madge  reflec 
tively,  her  peculiarly  clear  pronunciation  contrasting  with 
Bobby's  crushed  digraphs. 

"  Hang  up  my  stocking !  "  the  old  lady  was  muttering, 
as  she  overheard  them.  "  I  guess  if  I  do  it  '11  only  be 
because  there  's  no  leg  to  put  into  it !  "  But  she  fell  to 
thinking  of  Christmas  and  "  Christian  things  "  in  an  un 
wonted  manner,  for  all  that.  A  little  later,  as  she  lay 
silent,  a  queer,  half  -  conscious  smile  played  curiously 
among  the  wrinkles  that  seemed  to  ripple  in  it  across  the 
pale  old  face. 

"  It  might  scratch,"  she  whispered.  "  People  that  she 
don't  know,  and  that  don't  know  her." 

The  Midget's  word  came  like  a  refrain  to  her  ear,  and 
a  moral  to  her  meditation.  It  was  very  near  to  "  people 
that  she  ought  to  know,  and  that  ought  to  know  her." 

Miss  Peniworth  lay  there,  I  think,  from  day  to  day, 
picking  up  the  crumbs  that  fell  from  the  children's  table, 
growing  a  little  sorry,  and  doing  some  mending  besides 
the  bone-mending  that  she  had  "  brought  with  her."  In 
a  way,  therefore,  to  be  more  "  complete  "  by  Christmas 
time. 


BUTTERED  CRUSTS.  83 

Mrs.  Laura  came  into  her  room  one  morning,  and  spoke 
without  preface. 

"  If  you  would  n't  mind.  Aunt  Salva,"  she  said,  "  I  should 
much  prefer  to  be  without  Miss  Sluyterhand.  She  re 
quires  more  consideration,  and  makes  more  difference  in 
the  house  than  you  do." 

"All  right,"  returned  Aunt  Salva.  "Plainest  said  is 
readiest  read.  Short  metre's  easy  singing."  And  instead 
of  being  annoyed,  she  actually  looked  with  respect  at 
Madam  Laura.  Miss  Sluyterhand  was  astounded  within 
half  an  hour  at  being  told  that  she  might  return  by  next 
train  to  Thirty-first  street.  "  It  don't  take  six  sound 
women  to  look  after  one  smashed  one,"  said  Miss  Peni- 
worth. 

"  You  might  have  counted  them  up  before,"  returned 
the  companion. 

"  Did  n't  know  they  all  counted,  but  they  do,"  replied 
Miss  Peniworth. 

"  If  she  begins  to  realize  her  relations  !  "  —  said  Miss 
Sluyterhand  to  herself,  and  felt  herself  already  counted 
out,  and  that  the  next  order  might  be  back  to  Pekean- 
sneke  village  where  she  came  from. 

And  Christmas  drew  nearer  and  nearer ;  and  the 
twenty-third  must  come  before  the  twenty-fifth  ;  and  the 
papers  closing  the  land  sale  had  only  been  signed  and 
sent  to  Blue  Bluff  by  the  mail  of  the  thirteenth,  and  there 
was  but  just  a  chance  of  payment  coming  by  the  twenty- 
second,  when  Stewart  Frost  must  go  to  Boston. 

"  We  won't  sell  your  bonds,  Laura,"  he  said  to  his  wife, 
"but  I  'm  afraid  they  must  be  hypothecated  ;  and  I  don't 
like  to  lay  a  finger  on  them.  The  Iowa  money  won't 
quite  cover,  you  see ;  and  then  so  many  things  might  hap 
pen  to  absorb  some  of  it  before  redeeming  the  other.  I 
don't  like  it,"  he  repeated  slowly  and  strongly.  And 


84  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

Laura  knew  well  that  there  were  other  tight  pinches,  and 
that  once  in  pledge  she  might  easily  have  seen  the  last  of 
her  nice  little  seven  per  cents. 

The  mails  of  the  twenty-first  brought  nothing,  either  to 
the  New  York  or  Broadtop  address,  from  Blue  Bluff. 
The  morning  of  the  twenty-second  broke  clear  and  sharp, 
with  its  tardy  sunrise  and  a  wind  that  streamed  straight 
from  northern  icebergs.  Stewart  Frost  was  to  go  by  the 
Fall  River  boat  that  night ;  he  left  home  with  his  wife's 
bonds,  duly  transferred  to  himself,  in  his  breast-pocket. 

"  I  will  telegraph  you  if  anything  comes  to  Leonard 
street,"  he  said,  when  he  bade  Laura  good-bye.  "  Coast 
down  hill  after  me,  Bobby,  and  report  to  mamma  from 
morning  mail." 

"  Something  might  come  here  by  the  quarter-past  two," 
said  Laura. 

"No  use,"  said  Stewart.  "Afternoon  mail  would  be 
gone,  and  night  mail  from  here  would  n't  overtake.  I 
shall  be  busy  early  to-morrow.  You  can't  borrow  money 
in  a  minute,  even  on  L.  L.  and  T's."  And  so  he  went 
away,  leaving  neither  address  nor  instruction  for  anything 
to  follow. 

Nevertheless,  Bobby  coasted  downhill  again  to  the  post- 
office  at  half-past  two  o'clock,  the  women  watching  for  his 
return  from  an  upper  window. 

"  There  he  comes  —  with  his  '  wrethshedness,'  "  said 
Thankful,  spying  the  small  figure  first,  tugging  his  sled 
with  one  hand,  and  flourishing  the  other  in  the  air,  square 
white  corners  showing  from  it  above  the  grasp  of  the  red 
mitten. 

"  And  now,  what?     He  said  it  was  no  use." 

"  But  it  must  be.  It  has  got  to  be.  I  '11  go  to  New 
York." 

"  Then,  what  ?     And  there  's  no  train  till  four-fifteen." 


BUTTERED   CRUSTS.  85 

"  Then  I  '11  catch  him  at  the  boat.  And  there  's  a  train 
from  Southdale  at  three-fifteen." 

"  You  can't  catch  that." 

"  I  can.  Win  Trupeare  will  drive  me  over."  And 
Thankful  turned  to  a  writing-table  behind  her  and  began 
to  scratch  off  one  of  her  little  double-and-twisted  notes. 

"  Thanky !  " 

"  All  right,  quite  welcome  !  " 

"  Pshaw  !  Nonsense,  I  mean  !  You  must  n't.  Ther 
mometer  down  to  two  below,  and  going  to  tumble  all 
night." 

"  We  shall  too,  and  so  will  Stewart  —  if  this  letter 
does  n't  go." 

"  This  letter  hasn't  come."  But  it  did  come  in  at  that 
minute. 

"  Will  you  go  over  to  the  Trupeare's  with  this,  my 
Scandinavian  ?  " 

Bobby  received  the  unknown  term  and  the  pat  on  the 
shoulder  as  if  they  had  been  knighthood  and  the  acco 
lade. 

"  'Course  I  will."  And  with  a  sniffle  and  a  rub  of  the 
mitten  across  eyes  watery  with  the  cold,  he  took  the  paper 
quirl  and  stumped  off  once  more. 

"  I  can't !  "  exclaimed  Laura. 

"  I  know  it,  so  it  is  to  be  I,"  responded  Thankful,  pull 
ing  wraps  out  of  the  wardrobe. 

"  Let  you  !  "  finished  Laura. 

"  Nor  hinder." 

And  now  Thankful's  arctic  boots  were  on  and  the  but 
ton-hook  flashing  along  their  fastenings. 

'•  You  '11  never  find  him  in  that  crowd.  You  '11  barely 
be  on  time." 

"  I  '11  have  half  an  hour.  I  '11  send  a  policeman  on 
board  and  I  '11  watch  the  gangway." 


86  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

"  It  will  be  pitch-dark,  and  no  train  home  between  five 
and  seven.  You  '11  freeze." 

"  No  matter.  I  won't.  Besides,  there  's  always  Thirty- 
first  street,  and  Miss  Sluyterhand."  But  on  the  way  to 
Southdale,  Thankful  had  time  to  consider  that  she  would 
by  no  means  try  Thirty-first  street.  She  knew  the  "  tricks 
and  the  manners  "  there  ;  and  she  would  neither  use  the 
servants'  hospitality  behind  their  mistress'  back  —  and 
Aunt  Salva  must  not  know  —  nor  go  up  town  for  the 
chance  of  being  locked  out  and  still  further  belated. 
"  But  Providence  is  at  both  ends,  and  at  all  crossings," 
she  said  to  herself.  She  was  persuaded  that  Providence 
had  this  matter  in  hand,  and  as  one  link  had  put  this 
letter  into  hers. 

"  Thanks,  ever  so  much.  Don't  stop,"  she  said  to  Win, 
jumping  out  on  the  platform  at  Southdale.  And  as  Win 
had  to  meet  his  father  by  the  three-thirty  arrival  at  Broad- 
top,  he  bade  "  Good-bye,"  then  sprung  to  his  seat,  grabbed 
his  fur  cap  in  salute,  and  shot  away  on  swift  runners  over 
the  sharp,  crusted  snow. 

Left  alone,  Thankful  realized  some  eerieness  in  this 
thing  she  had  set  about.  The  midwinter  sun  was  low 
down  already.  And  the  train  —  from  far  up  country  — 
did  not  come  to  the  junction  till  quite  fifteen  minutes  be 
hind  time. 

"  I  shall  have  fifteen  minutes,"  she  said  to  herself ; 
but  in  a  mental  tone  as  if  already,  she  began  to  say, 
"  Don't  be  a  goose,  Thankful !  " 

Three  minutes  lost  again  at  a  turn-out,  through  being 
off  time.  "  Twelve  minutes  !  "  Thankful  told  herself. 
"  I  wonder  if  I  am  a  goose  ?  " 

On  board  the  ferry-boat  she  sat  under  a  lamp,  watch 
in  hand,  and  came  solemnly  to  the  conclusion  that  she 
was  a  goose  —  a  wild  one  —  and  on  a  hopeless  chase. 


BUTTERED   CRUSTS.  87 

Ice  at  the  starting-slip,  ice  hindering  the  paddles  that 
crushed  their  slow  way  across,  ice  at  the  landing  in  big, 
loose  blocks,  delaying  the  chaining  up.  Only  five  minutes 
left  her  when  she  hurried  up  the  sideway,  and  out  into 
the  stream  and  whirlpool  of  teams  and  jostling  people. 

"  I  can  at  least  jump  on  board  and  go  with  him  !  "  she 
thought  desperately.  "  If  only  I  can  run  over  or  through 
this  crowd  that  has  no  business  !  "  One  always  does  feel 
irrationally,  that  the  rest  of  the  crowd  is  intrusively  su 
perfluous. 

She  made  the  two  squares'  distance  somehow  ;  slipping, 
stumbling,  bewildered  by  lights  and  darkness,  she  hurried 
down  another  sideway,  ominously  clear  of  passers. 

Arrived  at  the  open  landing-doors,  behold  the  gang 
plank  just  flung  aside  —  a  void  beyond,  with  water  heav 
ing  and  plashing  against  the  pier,  not  yet  stilled  from  the 
outgoing  of  the  steamer.  The  Providence  —  was  it  a  sar 
casm  ?  gone  on  its  way,  leaving  her  and  her  errand  in  the 
lurch  ! 

One  feels  at  such  a  time  as  if  the  world  had  slipped 
from  underfoot,  taking  away  all  purpose  and  connection 
one  had  with  it.  For  an  instant,  Thankful  stood,  stunned, 
still ;  then  every  faculty  in  her  sprang  up  keen  and  swift 
to  the  emergency. 

'•  There  's  another  way  to  Boston,  yet !  "  she  said,  as  if 
Boston  had  been  at  best  a  distance  of  minutes,  and  it  were 
but  a  question  of  street-car  or  steam.  "  And  it 's  so  good 
that  Laura  will  settle  me  in  her  mind  at  Thirty-first 
street !  Nobody  to  worry ;  nobody  to  know.  The  train 
is  in  at  the  Albany  an  hour,  sometimes,  before  the  other 
from  Fall  River  ;  I  '11  just  go !  " 

And  she  walked  up  Barclay  street  the  loneliest,  bravest 
little  woman  afoot  there  or  perhaps  in  all  New  York. 

Up  town  by  the  Elevated  Road.     Now  there  would  only 


88  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

be  that  stretch  of  Forty-second  street  to  the  Grand  Central. 
Yet  "  nobody  tQ  know "  repeated  itself  with  a  thrill  of 
something  that  could  just  feel  like  —  if  it  were  not  — fear, 
as  the  car  whirled  on  between  the  upper  stories  that  gave 
glimpses  of  all  sorts  of  homes  to  her  who  was  out  of  home 
to-night !  As  the  passengers  stamped  in  and  out,  shrug 
ging  themselves  with  cold,  she  felt  drearily  how  she  had 
isolated  herself,  effaced  her  trail.  Nobody  to  speak  to  ; 
nobody  to  know  anything  of  her.  Would  anybody  find 
out  what  had  become  of  her,  should  accident  or  illness 
befall  her  ?  Her  head  was  giddy  with  the  painful  brac 
ing  of  the  cold,  and  the  rush  of  excited  thought. 

Still  she  did  not  waver  from  her  resolve.  It  would  be 
cheerful  in  the  great  station  ;  there  would  be  plenty  of 
people  —  ladies  among  them  —  going  to  Boston  in  the 
train.  Boston  -  ward  was  homeward.  She  should  be 
among  familiar  things  in  the  morning ;  she  should  find 
Stewart ;  then  he  would  take  care.  She  should  return 
so  cosily  with  him.  He  would  have  had  his  money  with 
him  —  his  own  —  that  was  buttoned  safe  in  the  breast  of 
her  jacket,  and  would  never  have  touched  that  little  por 
tion  of  his  wife's.  How  glad  his  pride  would  be  !  Oh, 
yes,  she  would  keep  on  ! 

Along  Forty-second  street,  in  what  seemed  like  night 
time,  though  she  knew  it  was  not  yet  six  o'clock.  There 
was  a  train  at  nine,  she  thought.  Three  hours  to  wait ; 
that  was  the  hardest.  And  how  bitter  the  night  was  grow 
ing  ! 

Arrived  at  the  station,  she  went  to  the  time-table.  No 
train  till  half-past  nine,  and  that  —  she  glanced  down  the 
column  —  only  to  Springfield  !  The  puttings  off  were 
like  a  nightmare !  She  looked  again.  A  train  at  ten. 
That  was  the  Shore  Line.  It  would  not  do ;  it  would 
take  her  in  at  the  Providence  station.  How  "Provi- 


BUTTERED   CRUSTS.  89 

dence  "  seemed  to  mock  her  all  along  !  Yet  she  said  to 
herself  bravely  and  faithfully,  "  There  's  a  plan  across  all 
crosses.  I  must  just  keep  on." 

The  through  train  by  Springfield  would  leave  at  ten- 
thirty.  Four  hours,  and  more !  She  would  spend  half 
the  weary  night  before  she  could  be  on  her  way.  All 
this  time  to  be  thinking  whether  or  not  it  were  a  wild- 
goose  chase  —  a  burning  of  the  candle  for  a  game  not 
vitally  enough  worth  while.  If  she  had  known  all  before 
hand,  she  might  not  have  begun.  But  it  had  been  meant 
she  should  begin ! 

She  went  to  the  office  for  "  sleeper  "  tickets.  A  kind- 
looking,  fatherly  old  German  occupied  the  bureau.  "  I 
should  like  a  whole  section,"  she  said  to  him.  "  I  am 
suddenly  obliged  to  go  alone." 

"  So  !  "  he  said,  looking  gently  —  earnestly  at  her  above 
his  glasses.  "Very  veil;  here  it  ees.  Number  ten; 
lower  berth  vas  taken,  but  I  shall  put  him  in  t'irteen. 
Can  I  do  more  for  you  any  vay  ?  " 

"  Unless  you  can  manage  neighbors  for  me,"  answered 
Thankful,  smiling  gratefully.  "  I  wish  I  were  sure  of 
ladies  near." 

"  See  !  "  said  the  ticket-seller,  with  still  warming  friend 
liness,  "  here  in  eleven  will  be  an  old  zhentleman  and  ees 
vife ;  nice  people,  I  know  dhem.  And  in  number  twelve 

—  ah,  number  twelve  is  not  engage.     It  will  have  to  be 
very  crowded  before  I  gif  number  twelve  vidhout  I  chose 
the  people  for  you,  young  lady.     I  lief  my  own  daughters 

—  see?" 

Thankful  had  put  some  biscuits  in  her  bag,  in  case  of 
detention.  She  sat  down  to  eat  them  now,  and  found 
also  a  little  paper  of  chocolates,  bought  in  her  shopping 
two  days  before.  She  comforted  herself  with  these,  and 
tried  to  feel  composed,  like  a  traveler  on  a  planned,  pro- 


90  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

vided  journey.  She  would  buy  her  ticket  later  among 
regular  comers.  But  people  looked  almost  cruel  to  her, 
passing  to  and  fro  in  safe  and  happy  escort ;  and  the  long 
clock-hand  crept  so  unwillingly  round  the  great  dial  that 
seemed  made  to  measure  magnified  hours. 

Half-past  six ;  a  long  up-grade  to  seven  ;  down  to  the 
half-hour  again.  Did  it  climb  slower  than  it  fell  ?  Two 
more  whole  rounds  after  eight ;  then,  perhaps,  the  train 
would  be  ready. 

Twenty  minutes  to  eight  —  suddenly  she  stood  up, 
made  one  step  forward.  "  Oh  !  " 

The  sound  slightly  arrested  the  movement  of  a  person 
who  had  just  entered  ;  a  tall,  high-bred  looking  man.  He 
looked  round,  and  turned  toward  her.  "  Miss  Holme  !  " 
he  said,  surprised. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Shatoraine  !  "  And  then  something  came 
over  her  that  drew  her  back  and  up,  in  a  proud,  shy,  re 
ceding  way.  "  I  beg  pardon,"  she  said,  very  quietly. 

"  But  why  ?  Is  there  anything  —  you  have  just  ar 
rived,  perhaps  ?  Is  there  anything  that  I  can  do  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  indeed.  I  spoke  without  thinking.  I  have 
been  waiting  so  long,  and  there  was  nobody  I  ever  saw 
before,  till  you  came  in.  I  was  getting  nervous,  that  was 
all." 

"  Waiting?  My  dear  Miss  Holme,  what  is  it?  Have 
you  missed  any  one  ?  Are  you  all  alone  ?  " 

"  Yes.  But  —  oh,  it  is  all  right !  I  was  too  late  to 
meet  my  brother-in-law  at  the  boat ;  and  now  I  am  only 
going  by  the  Springfield  train  myself  to  catch  him  in  the 
morning."  It  seemed  all  at  once  quite  simple  again,  and 
as  if  she  were  restored  to  her  place  in  the  line  of  human 
relation  and  event,  since  she  had  found  a  face  and  voice 
she  knew.  "  It  is  really  nothing  ;  only  —  I  never  was 
quite  so  nearly  astray  before,  and  the  time  seemed  so 
long ! " 


BUTTERED   CRUSTS.  91 

"  Going  !  By  the  night  train  !  "  Mr.  Shatoraine 
looked  but  half  comprehending,  and  wholly  astonished. 

"  It  may  seem  very  strange  to  you,"  said  Thankful,  with 
that  receding  air  again.  "  But  it  is  an  errand.  Most 
strangeness  is  the  not  understanding  people's  errands,  I 
suppose." 

This  time  Mr.  Shatoraine  begged  pardon. 

"  I  have  some  papers  for  him  from  home  ;  I  came  in 
from  Broadtop  with  them,  and  the  boat  had  just  gone  ;  we 
had  no  address,  and  he  would  not  look  for  them  by  mail ; 
there  's  no  other  way  —  and  there  is  this  ;  so  it  can't  be 
really  out  of  the  way  !  '  And  Thankful  smiled  in  a 
bright,  sure,  true  fashion. 

"Of  course  —  not  that,"  said  Mr.  Shatoraine  hastily. 
He  spoke  to  the  smile  and  the  sweet,  brave  intent,  though, 
rather  than  to  the  fact.  '•  I  mean,  there  's  no  reason ; 
but  —  the  night  will  be  tremendous.  Is  it  only  the  pa 
pers  ?  "  he  asked  with  a  sudden  inspiration.  "  I  'm  going 
myself,  if  you  would  trust  me  with  them."  In  order  of 
phrasing,  he  spoke  straight  truth.  "  I  'm  to  meet  my 
mother  directly  in  the  train  from  New  Haven.  I  must 
see  her  home  ;  but  if  you  would  just  tell  me  at  once  —  we 
shall  have  ten  minutes  ;  can't  I  do  your  errand  for  you  ?" 

Everything  flashed  together  through  Thankful's  head. 

Mrs.  Shatoraine.  proud,  punctilious  woman,  how  strange 
all  this  would  look  to  her,  whose  non-understanding  last 
year  of  a  little  strangeness  had  been  the  suspending  of  a 
pleasant  intimacy  for  Thankful,  and  had  pulled  the  mus 
cles  of  her  own  pride  now,  in  meeting  with  the  lady's 
son  !  She  would  not  have  Mrs.  Shatoraine  lifting  her 
eyebrows  at  her  again  and  asking  no  explanation.  And 
if  she  were  released  from  this  journey  that  had  grown 
terrible  to  her  ?  Thirty -first  street  ?  Miss  Sluyterhand 
might  be  at  Pekeansneke :  cook  and  butler  anywhere. 
Anyhow,  it  was  hateful. 


92  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

Ferry  for  Broadtop  train  at  eight-thirty.  Possible,  cer 
tainly  ;  but  the  great  seething  city  to  cross  ;  the  dark  places 
near  the  piers ;  the  icy  river,  even  the  five  minutes'  walk 
at  Broadtop  from  a  ten-o'clock  arrival.  Yet,  oh,  if  she 
could  get  home ! 

Her  eye  fell  on  a  messenger  boy,  a  bright,  capable, 
honest-faced  lad  of  fifteen,  just  reporting  himself  at  the 
office. 

"  I  wonder  if  I  could  send  myself  home  like  a  parcel  ?  " 
she  thought  suddenly. 

"  Would  you  ?  "  she  asked  of  Raynald  Shatoraine,  with 
depths  of  thanks  and  obligation  in  the  question. 

"  Most  certainly,  gladly  and  easily.     Your  brother-in- 

lory        _  __, 

"  Mr.  Stewart  Frost.     You  know  him  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes.  He  arrives  by  steamboat  train  ?  And  these 
papers  ?  " 

"  Are  important  to  him  to-morrow.  There  will  be  at 
least  a  half-hour  between  the  two  arrivals,  likely  more." 

"  And  if  we  two  men  both  reach  Boston,  they  shall  be 
put  into  his  hands  as  he  leaves  the  cars.  You  could  do  no 
more  yourself.  Depend  upon  me." 

Thankful  unclasped  her  sealskin  jacket,  and  drew  from 
its  inner  pocket  the  Blue  Bluff  letter.  "  Only  that,"  she 
said.  "  But  it  will  make  a  great  difference  to  him." 

"  I  can  suppose  so,  since  you  would  have  undertaken 
such  an  errand."  And  Raynald  Shatoraine  looked  upon 
Thankful's  proud,  shy,  tremulous  face,  and  measured  in 
his  mind  the  courage  and  the  kindness  that  must  dwell 
together  with  what  he  saw  there,  to  have  sent  her  with 
this  charge  to-night. 

"  I  did  n't  undertake  it  altogether  ;  it  grew  upon  me  ; 
and  grew  rather  grewsome  at  the  last,"  she  said,  with  the 
tone  relief  makes  laughing,  out  of  almost  tears. 


BUTTERED   CRUSTS.  93 

"But  now?  How  will  you  do?"  Things  began  to 
rush  all  at  once  through  Raynald  Shatoraine's  head. 
Could  she  wait  ?  Would  his  mother  wait  ?  How  could 
he  see  her  on  her  way  home  ?  And  —  he  also  shrunk 
from  that  —  what  would  his  mother  say,  or  think,  until  it 
all  could  be  told  as  it  deserved  to  be  ? 

"  I  will  send  myself  home  by  a  messenger  boy  !  "  said 
Thankful ;  and  she  walked  straight  over  to  the  office  with 
the  word.  Mr.  Shatoraine  stood  by,  a  little  apart,  to  see 
what  would  come  of  it,  and  to  judge  for  her  ;  to  protect, 
if  need  be. 

"  Can  you  send  a  messenger  with  a  person,  sir  ?  "  asked 
Thankful  of  the  chief. 

"  Oh  yes  ;  do  it  quite  often.  People  miss  their  friends, 
or  get  left ;  can  send  you  safely  anywhere." 

"  But  it  is  out  of  town ;  I  am  going  to  Broadtop  ;  I 
must  take  the  ferry  at  eight-thirty  for  the  train  —  an  hour 
from  the  Jersey  station.  And  I  must  have  an  escort  all 
the  way  home.  There  is  a  signal-train  back  through 
Broadtop  at  ten-ten.  There  would  be  time  for  the  mes 
senger  to  take  that." 

"  All  right."  The  officer  turned  to  his  tables.  "  Two 
dollars  and  forty  cents.  You  pay  your  fares,  he  pays  his ; 
charge  includes  all.  You  take  a  certificate  of  delivery, 
and  sign  when  you  reach  home."  With  that  he  rapidly 
made  it  out,  calling  at  the  same  time  to  the  handsome, 
honest-faced  boy  in  buttons. 

"  Stephen  !  " 

"  Yes,  sir  !  " 

"  You  take  this  young  lady  —  elevated  road  to  Barclay 
Street  Ferry  —  train  to  Broadtop  ;  see  her  home  ;  come 
back  by  ten-ten  signal-train  ;  report  here  before  twelve." 

"  All  right,  sir." 

Mr.  Shatoraine  could  scarcely  consider,  much  less  ex- 


94  HOMESPUN  YARNS. 

postulate  ;  it  was  all  wonderful ;  unusual,  but  seemingly 
as  sure  as  telegraphing.  He  must  meet  his  mother ; 
Thankful  must  hasten  on  her  way.  She  held  out  her  hand 
to  him,  said  "  I  thank  you,"  — three  syllables  in  which  the 
pronoun  put  intensification  far  beyond  the  meaning  of  the 
ordinary  two,  to  say  nothing,  as  it  deserves,  of  that  merest 
toss-off,  the  modern  monosyllable ;  then  she  added  hur 
riedly,  "  Oh,  here  is  this  !  "  and  transferred  to  him  a 
paper  slip  which  he  did  not  look  at  till  afterward  ;  and 
without  further  word  was  gone. 

The  slip  was  her  ticket  for  section  number  ten. 

Mr.  Raynald  Shatoraine  found  himself  accompanied  in 
the  long  railway  journey  afterward  with  many  freshened 
and  strengthened  ideas. 

"  Quick,  thorough,  ready,  true,  brave  ;  full  of  service  ! 
That  makes  a  woman  indeed  !  "  was  a  kind  of  refrain  to 
his  leisurely  recollection  of  swift  details.  And  on  the  re 
turn  trip,  next  night,  with  Stewart  Frost  for  companion, 
there  were  not  wanting  more  details  naturally  drawn 
forth  ;  nor  more  refrain,  naturally,  though  silently  repeat 
ing  and  augmenting  itself. 

I  must  finish  my  crusts  with  three  crisp  scraps. 

There  were  no  delays  in  Thankful's  homeward  trip,  be 
yond  the  few  minutes  of  the  slower  ferry  passage.  She 
presented  herself  with  Stephen  Buttons  at  the  door,  just 
as  Mrs.  Laura  was  peering  forth  anxiously,  before  locking 
up.  She  signed  the  delivery  ticket,  gave  Stephen  a  hand 
some  Christmas  gratuity,  and  bade  him  good-night  with 
great  kindliness.  The  interest  she  had  formed  for  him  by 
the  way  might  begin  another  little  story ;  and  did,  though 
it  remain  here  untold. 

The  adventure  was  too  fine  to  be  kept  quite  quiet,  in 
that  household.  It  came  to  Aunt  Salva's  ears,  alert,  and 


BUTTERED   CRUSTS.  95 

flexible  like  a  cat's.  Stewart's  arrival  on  Christmas  Eve 
put  an  end  to  whatever  little  ambiguities  had  been  fenced 
with  before.  A  man  never  keeps  anything  to  himself, 
which  is  why  women  have  more  secrets  intrusted  to  them 
than  they  can  keep. 

"  Well,  we  're  both  /tome,  and  I  'm  thankful  !  "  was  his 
blurting  out  of  gratitude  and  all.  Another  man-fashion. 
The  grip  of  his  fingers  over  his  young  sister-in-law's  said 
more.  And  then  came  questions,  answers,  a  full  recount. 

"  But  how  did  you  dare  ?  With  the  crowds  in  the 
streets  —  oh,  Aunt  Thankye !  " 

"  The  crowd  was  the  comfort.  So  many  of  them  were 
Christmas  people.  It  was  the  safest  time  in  the  whole 
year." 

"  And  Providence  ivas  at  both  ends  ;  and  in  the  middle, 
at  the  Grand  Central !  "  confessed  Stewart,  with  mischief 
and  earnest  mixed. 

On  Christmas  morning  —  (scrap  number  two)  —  the 
stocking-jollity  being  kept  as  hushed  as  possible — there 
came  an  unexpected  early  summons  from  Aunt  Salva. 
She  wanted  "  Laura  and  the  girls."  Thankful  included 
herself,  unchallenged. 

"  It 's  a  good  day  to  settle  things,"  said  Aunt  Salva, 
bolstered  well  up  in  bed,  and  looking  dignified.  "  I  've 
been  here,  Laura,  three  weeks,  and  there  will  be  three 
more.  There  's  my  board  and  lodging."  And  she  put  a 
package  into  Mrs.  Laura's  hand.  That  lady  looked  as 
tonished  and  apprehensive. 

u  I  think  I  must  open  it  before  I  accept,"  she  said ;  and 
Aunt  Salva  smiled  grimly. 

Laura  unfastened  a  thick  envelope,  tied  with  pink  tape. 
She  drew  forth  six  familiar-looking  folded  sheets  inscribed 
in  pairs,  each  two  with  a  like  name :  "  Laura  Peniworth 


96  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

Frost,"  "  Ethelind  Holme  Frost,"  "  Celia  Charlotte  Frost." 
Each  sheet  a  "  Liberty  Loan  and  Trust "  bond  for  one 
thousand  dollars. 

"  Aunt  Salva,  this  is  —  insufferable  !  "  But  the  paused- 
for  word  came  forth  with  a  most  contradictory  tremble. 

"  You  can't  help  it  —  Christmas  Day  !  "  shouted  Aunt 
Salva.  "  And  now,  hear.  I  always  speak  the  truth  right 
out  —  when  I  see  it  —  to  myself,  or  another.  My  tongue  's 
as  rough  inside  my  mouth  as  at  the  tip.  I  've  been  a  fool. 
I  've  been  twenty  years  finding  out  that  you  was  n't,  Laura 
Peniworth.  You  were  right  about  the  spider,  and  the 
crusts,  Thankful  Holme.  And  you  've  buttered  the  big 
gest  one  in  the  basket,  and  that 's  me.  Laura  Peniworth, 
do  as  you  'd  be  done  by  ;  heap  coals  of  fire  !  " 

But  if  there  were  any  fieriness  or  coals  coming,  there 
were  clear,  soft  drops  in  Aunt  Salva's  splendid  old  gray 
eyes,  ready  to  put  them  out. 

"  Mother,"  said  Raynald  Shatoraine,  four  weeks  later 
—  (and  this  is  scrap  number  three),  —  "Miss  Holme  is 
at  Miss  Salva  Peniworth's  ;  won't  you  call  ?  " 

Mr.  Shatoraine  had  decided,  during  that  night  trip  to 
Boston,  to  withhold  somewhat  indefinitely  its  explanation 
from  his  mother.  But  now  he  felt  like  bringing  it  about, 
with  proper  preface. 

"  Why  should  I,  my  dear  ?  Our  acquaintance  had 
dropped,  I  thought." 

"  You  ought  to  pick  it  up  again,  as  if  you  had  dropped 
a  diamond.  You  have  mistaken  Thankful  Holme." 

"Not  her  ignorance,  Raynald,  if  it  were  not  rudeness, 
or  worse.  A  lady  couldn't  be  ignorant  like  that." 

"  To  ask  you  to  excuse  her  from  her  engagement,  be 
cause  her  grandmother  could  not  spare  her,  after  all  ?  " 

"  When  I  sat  in  the  carriage  at  the  door,  and  she  with 


BUTTERED    CRUSTS.  97 

hat  and  gloves  on,  at  the  last  moment !  and  then  that  she 
should  appear  later,  with  those  Heyripps !  And  her  man 
ner  with  Arthur  Sturgeon  !  And  his  driving  her  home ! 
You  can't  explain  it,  Raynald." 

"  No.  But  she  could.  You  never  asked  her.  She  is 
as  proud  as  you." 

"  I  am  much  the  older." 

"  And  can  so  be  the  more  gracious." 

"  It  is  too  slight  a  matter,  and  was  so  long  ago.  Why 
do  you  care  ?  " 

"  When  you  are  satisfied,  I  will  tell  you." 

Mrs.  Shatoraine  did  call  in  Thirty-first  street.  Thank 
ful  was  a  little  high  and  straight  with  her.  But  the  gra 
cious  lady  took  her  way,  now,  with  a  true  queenship. 

"  My  dear,  can  you  remember  a  small  thing  a  long 
while  ?  " 

"Some  small  things,  Mrs.  Shatoraine." 

"  Why  did  you  throw  me  over  in  our  engagement  for 
the  Hering's  garden  party,  when  I  was  in  Norchester, 
summer  before  last  ?  " 

"It  was  grandmamma.     One  of  her  nerve  attacks." 

"  Why  did  you  come  afterward  with  the  Miss  Hey 
ripps  ?  " 

"  They  came  for  me,  and  said  that  the  Sturgeons  had 
got  back,  and  would  be  there,  and  I  must  come,"  answered 
Thankful  sweetly,  with  gentle  malice. 

"  Ah !  " 

"  And  then  grandmamma  would  have  it,"  continued 
Thankful,  still  sweetly,  without  the  malice.  "  She  was 
very  anxious  to  hear  from  Mr.  Arthur  Sturgeon ;  the 
banker,  you  know." 

"  I  know." 

"  She  was  worried  about  her  O.  P.  and  Q.  stocks." 

"  And  he  returned  with  you  ?  " 
7 


98  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

"  Yes ;  to  see  grandmamma.  I  only  stayed  long  enough 
to  do  my  errand." 

"  I  see.  And  people  cannot  always  quite  see  through 
the  errands  of  other  people."  Which  was  precisely  what 
Thankful  had  told  Raynald  Shatoraine. 

Mrs.  Shatoraine  kissed  her,  begged  her  to  forgive  an 
old  woman's  touchy  stupidity,  and  to  come,  in  token,  for 
a  day  in  Gramercy  Park." 

Meanwhile,  being  "satisfied,"  she  heard  the  rest  from 
Raynald. 

"  She  is  a  whole  pearl,  unset,"  said  Mrs.  Shatoraine. 

When  Thankful  went  back  to  Broadtop,  Raynald  Shat 
oraine  went  with  her  and  dined  at  the  Frosts'. 

"  There  's  one  thing,"  said  Stewart,  that  evening,  when 
the  other  had  gone.  "  I  hope  you  don't  mean  to  be  done 
with  us,  sister-in-law  ?  You  're  welcome  to  my  last  crust, 
I  'm  sure !  " 

"  For  the  buttering,  —  crafty  man  !  "  put  in  his  frau. 

"  Why  not,  blessed  woman  ?  It 's  the  woman-blessed 
ness.  Wherever  she  is,  there  '11  always  be  a  thankful 
home,  at  any  rate  !  " 

"  Yes.  And  there  could  n't  be  more,  even  though  she 
should  be  a  —  castle-queen  !  " 

Which  remote  allusion  I  leave  for  girl-readers  to  apply 
and  translate. 


THE   SOAP-BUBBLE   QUESTION. 

TWO    OPEN    LETTERS.1 

LETTER  I. 

PINE  POND,  December  1,  1883. 
MY     DEAR     AND    VERITABLE     THANKFUL     HOLME  :  

Although  I  cannot  claim  your  actual  personal  acquaint 
ance  —  having  only  held  telephonic  communication  with 
you  when  listening  (as  a  reporter)  for  the  transmissions 
from  Innerland  —  I  am  venturing  upon  this  direct  appeal 
in  the  confidence  that  one  whom  I  have  so  closely  ap 
proached  with  a  sympathy  that  has  almost  made  us  for 
the  time  identical  may  suffer  the  liberty  graciously,  and 
give  me,  if  possible,  some  response.  I  do  not  even  know 
precisely  how  to  address  you ;  as  since  I  last  hailed  and 
heard  from  you  over  the  Innerland  lines,  it  may  easily 
have  happened  that  you  should  have  changed  both  abiding 
and  name  ;  but  I  risk  this  through  the  official  centre, 
trusting  that  its  call  may  find  you  by  some  tingle  of  the 
wire  not  yet  loosened  or  cast  off,  which  holds  between  the 
utterance  of  you  there  received,  and  your  substantial 
somewhereness,  which  I  doubt  not. 

Will  that  do  for  regulation  preamble,  and  may  I  rush  at 
once,  now,  to  my  purpose  ?  The  fact  is,  dear  Thankful,  I 
am  in  a  scrape  through  you.  I  find  myself  involved  in  a 
kind  of  "  Hatchet"  game,  if  you  know  what  that  is,  and 
obliged  to  turn  to  you  for  an  answer  to  pass  on. 

"  I  have  a  hatchet." 

1  Printed  in  "  Wide  Awake,"  in  response,  as  apparent,  to  many 
"notes  and  queries,"  elicited  by  "  Buttered  Crusts." 


100  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

"What?" 

"  A  hatchet." 

"  Hatchet."  "  What  ?  "  "  What  ?  "  "  Hatchet," 
"  HATCHET  ! " 

"  HATCHET  !  "  "  What  ?  "  "  What  ?  "  "  WHAT  ?  " 
"  Hatchet"  "  Hatchet,"  "  HATCHET,"  "  HATCHET  !  " 

And  so  on,  down  and  up  the  line,  with  the  followings 
of :  "  Where  did  you  get  it  ?  "  "  'd  you  get  it  ?  "  —  "  you 
get  it  ?  "  —  "  Did  you  buy  it  ?  huy  it  ?  buy  it  ?  steal 
it  ?  steal  it  ? "  and  the  confusions  and  repetitions  of 
"  Hatchet."  "  D'd  ye  buy  it  ?  steal  it  ?  Sh-h !  Hatchet !  " 
mingling  and  echoing  like  haunting  cries  and  whispers  of 
some  mocking  taunt  and  imputation.  With  me  it  is 
"  Bubble  !  "  "  Bubble  !  "  "  D'd  y'  make  it  ?  "  "  D'd  y' 
see  it  ?  "  "  D'd  y'  MIX  it  ?  "  —  "  What  was  it  ?  "  "  't  was 
it?"  "WAS  it?"  "Bubble."  "Bubble!"  "Sh-h!" 
"Psha!"  "'T  wasn't!" 

I  feel  indeed  to  have  sought  the  bubble  reputation,  or 
risked  it,  as  in  the  cannon's  mouth,  or  over  dynamite. 
To  have  started  a  bubble  speculation,  blown  of  air  —  and 
watered  stock  —  to  tempt  confiding  people  to  their  disap 
pointment  and  demolition.  On  all  sides  the  demand 
comes  back  to  me  —  "  What  was  it  ?  "  "  How  do  you 
make  it  ?  "  "  Will  you  tell  me  by  return  mail  ?  "  "  Soap- 
bubbles  :  Buttered  Crusts  :  Want  some  !  "  WIDE  AWAKE  : 
"  Recipe  "  —  "  recipe  "  —  "  Recipe  !  " 

Even  the  unhappy  editor  is  implored  of ;  and  the  WISE 
BLACKBIRD  a-perch  behind  the  editor's  shoulder.  It  is  a 
fresh  case  of 

Old  King  Cole,  — 

The  jolly  old  soul,  — 
(And  a  jolly  old  soul  was  he) 

Who  called  for  his  pipe 

And  called  for  his  bowl, 
And  called  for  his  fiddlers  three. 


THE  SOAP-BUBBLE   QUESTION.  101 

While,  as  in  the  picture  in  Baby's  Opera,  the  pipe  and 
the  bowl  and  the  fiddlers  are  come,  and  they  wait  for 
their  orders  then  and  there ;  but  the  little  gray  owl  sits 
solemn  and  dumb,  and  blinks  from  the  back  of  his  Majes 
ty's  chair. 

They  know  nothing  about  it ;  so  they  turn  upon  me ; 
and  I  have  no  recourse  but  to  pass  the  query  back  and  up 
to  you,  through  the  looking-glass,  or  what  way  soever  you 
and  your  bubbles  may  indeed  be  got  at. 

I  have  not  come  to  you  until  I  have  tried  to  do  my  best 
without  you.  Of  course  I  could  not  get  truly  pipes  and 
truly  soap-suds  through  that  shadowy  transmitter  ;  I  ar 
rived  at  no  practical  knowledge  ;  I  could  only  tell  again 
what  I  supposed  myself  to  have  heard  accurately.  Maybe 
there  was  some  mistake  running  wild  along  the  wires. 
Or  some  cross-contact  mixing  up  exclamations  over,  say, 
a  sky-glow,  a  stained-glass  window,  a  new  set  of  finger- 
bowls,  iridescent  or  of  crackled  sunshine  —  with  those  at 
the  Broadtop  supper-table. 

I  was  sure  of  two  things,  anyhow  :  of  that  newspaper 
paragraph  —  which  indeed  was  the  only  ingredient  I  had 
to  begin  with  —  and  of  a  lovely  experiment  I  had  seen 
with  my  own  eyes  years  ago,  shown  by  the  late  Professor 
"William  B.  Rogers  in  a  friend's  parlor  ;  where  he  blew  a 
bubble  which  he  rested  in  a  little  silver  frame  and  set  up 
before  us,  that  we  might  watch  the  coming  and  changing 
and  vanishing  of  the  crimson  and  golden  and  violet  hues, 
according  to  the  fixed  and  mighty  laws  that  rule  the  rush 
ing  splendors  of  the  comet,  or  lend  their  tender  touch  to 
the  thinning  out  of  faint,  impalpable  light-waves  spelling 
the  prism  alphabet  upon  a  little  globe  of  watery  film. 

I  knew  I  was  right  about  that ;  that  it  stayed,  and 
stayed,  and  turned  from  flame-color  to  amber-yellow,  and 
to  green  and  blue  and  purple  ;  trailed  over  at  last  with  a 


102  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

flickering  breath  of  palest  violet  like  the  mere  whisper  of 
a  tint !  That  we  almost  handled  it,  as  we  gathered  about 
it,  and  pointed  out  its  wonders  to  each  other,  and  asked 
our  teacher  what  it  was  made  of  besides  light !  And  I 
know  he  told  us  that  he  had  put  glycerine  into  the  mix 
ture. 

So,  when  that  item  came  to  my  eyes  about  "  London 
bubble  parties  "  —  "  oleate  of  soda  "  —  (you  know  I  did  n't 
tell  a  bit  more  than  was  told  me,  and  that  I  discreetly  sent 
you  to  a  chemist,  and  left  the  matter  between  you  and 
him,  with  the  facilities  you  have  in  Innerland),  I  felt  quite 
authorized  (and  that  is  not  a  pun)  to  put  my  equal  part 
of  imagination  to  my  fact  of  newspaper  scrap,  add  all  that 
you  whispered  to  me,  and  leave  the  pleasure  of  investiga 
tion  to  those  who  should  "  take  stock  "  in  my  story. 

Only,  as  I  have  told  you,  I  was  not  to  be  let  off  so. 
On  the  contrary,  I  was  to  be  lettered.  The  mails  began 
to  bring  me  catechetical  inquiries ;  in  short,  to  bring  me 
to  book.  I  was  either  to  grovel  down  and  "  'fess,"  like 
Topsy,  or  to  rise  like  Truthful  James  and  explain. 

And  see  how  helpless  I  was  !  Up  here  at  Pine  Pond 
how  I  was  to  catch  a  chemist  ?  I  did  n't  even  have  a 
pipe. 

In  the  palpitation  of  dismay  upon  receiving  that  first 
politely  worded  — 

"  If  not  too  much  trouble,  dear  Mrs.  Whitelie,  would 
you  please  send  me  the  exact  proportions,  etc.,"  —  which 
threw  my  innocent  story-teller's  license  in  my  face  with 
the  look  of  a  humbug,  I  rushed  away  half  a  mile  in  the 
wind's  eye,  to  a  small  grocery,  and  bought  half  a  dozen 
clay  pipes ;  thence  straight  out,  the  length  of  the  village, 
to  the  drug  shop,  hard  by  the  desolate,  sandy  cemetery, 
and  asked  the  man  if  he  knew  of  such  a  thing  as  "  oleate 
of  soda."  Of  course  he  did  n't ;  I  began  to  doubt  if  any- 


THE   SOAP-BUBBLE   QUESTION.  103 

body  did.  But  he  said  he  was  going  to  Old  Knick  — 
the  city,  I  mean,  —  in  a  day  or  two,  and  he  would  in 
quire.  Meantime,  I  rushed  home  again,  bound  to  try 
something.  My  credit  was  at  stake.  My  draft  —  upon 
the  Public  Confidence  Bank  —  had  come  home  protested 
—  "  no  effects."  I  knew  they  had  been  trying,  and 
had  n't  got  any. 

I  hoisted  up  Webster's  Unabridged  from  the  floor  in 
the  window  corner,  where  I  had  established  my  Shaker 
chair  with  the  Lexicon  for  a  footstool ;  looked  up  "  oleate," 
and  received  the  information  that  it  was  "  a  compound  of 
oleic  acid  with  a  salifiable  base.  Then  I  dragged  down 
an  encyclopedia  —  Chambers,  vol.  vii.,  N  u  M  to  P  u  E  — 
and  searched  out  "  oleic  acid." 

"  Colorless,  limpid  fluid  "  —  "  solidifies  into  firm,  white 
crystalline  mass  "  —  "  constituent  of  oleine  "  —  "  exists  in 
most  of  the  fats  "  —  "  difficult  to  obtain  in  purity  "  — 
'•  forms  neutral  and  acid  salts  "  —  "  only  compounds  re 
quiring  notice  are  normal  salts  of  the  alkalies  "  —  "  all 
soluble,  and  by  the  evaporation  of  their  aqueous  solution, 
form  —  soaps  !  " 

"  Oleate  of  potash  forms  a  soft  soap,  chief  ingredient 
in  Naples  soap  ;  oleate  of  soda  forms  hard  soap  —  en 
ters  largely  into  composition  of  Marseilles  soap !  "  From 
which  followed  learnedly  the  deduction  that  the  chief  in 
gredient  in  soap-bubbles  is  —  soap.  —  Q.  E.  D. 

The  druggist  had  told  me  that  he  could  yet  oleate  of 
soda  for  me  ;  he  knew  there  was  such  a  thing,  though  not 
exactly  what  it  was.  Well,  I  knew  both  things  now ;  and 
I  could  get  it  for  myself  ;  but  I  forgot  to  call  and  tell 
him  so.  I  comfortably  dismissed  the  matter  from  my 
mind,  answered  that  first  letter  with  my  information  to 
date,  put  my  good  gown  and  some  collars  and  pocket- 
handkerchiefs  into  my  smallest  visiting  valise,  and  went 


104  HOMESPUN  YARNS. 

off  from  Pine  Pond  to  Little  Valley,  to  stay  a  few  days 
with  my  friend,  Mrs.  Ernest  Seker,  in  company  with  my 
old  friend,  Miss  Patience  Strong. 

We  had  a  lovely  time,  and  I  forgot  all  my  bubbles  and 
my  troubles.  But  on  my  return,  lo !  upon  my  swept  and 
garnished  writing-table,  seven  other  letters  more  implor 
ing  and  importunate  than  the  first  —  making  up  the  oc 
tave  of  my  perplexity  and  self-reproach  ;  a  note  also  from 
the  Wise  Blackbird,  asking  what  WIDE  AWAKE  might 
say  about  it ;  and  a  long  verbal  report  administered  in 
accompaniment  by  my  pleasant  hostess,  of  how  the  drug 
gist's  boy  had  knocked  them  up  at  eleven  o'clock  one 
night  with  "  a  bottle  of  Mrs.  Whitelie's  medicine,"  which 
he  had  forgotten  to  deliver. 

There  it  was,  upon  my  dressing-stand,  a  blue  glass  jar, 
paper-encased,  carefully  labeled  in  large  print,  as  if  it  had 
been  poison  —  "  Oleate  of  Soda." 

As  if  I  did  n't  know  what  white  Castile  soap  was,  even 
when  grated  to  impalpable  powder  and  bottled  up !  I 
smelled  and  tasted  ;  no  sort  of  doubt  of  its  simple  sapo- 
naceousness.  I  spilled  a  little  into  a  glass  of  water,  and 
stirred  it  up  with  the  handle  of  my  toothbrush.  It  came 
to  a  beautiful  white  lather,  but  there  was  no  mystery 
about  it.  I  seized  a  pipe  and  blew  a  bubble;  it  was 
lovely,  but  it  burst  like  any  other  bubble.  Then  I  "  put 
glythcerine  into  it ;  "  a  bubble  more  brilliant  and  —  yes, 
certainly  more  tenacious ;  but  I  could  not  have  picked  it 
up  and  put  it  upon  my  mantel,  to  keep  equal  company 
with  the  Japanese  crystal  there.  What  had  I  said  one 
could  do  with  those  buttered-crusty-bubbles  ? 

I  tried  quince  bandoline  in  addition  ;  I  tried  mucilage  ; 
I  tried  pulverized  gum-arabic.  I  asked  to  have  a  little 
starch  made,  and  tried  that.  I  grew  very  sloppy,  very 
sticky,  and  very  tired ;  still  I  could  evolve  nothing  that 


THE  SOAP-BUBBLE   QUESTION.  105 

would  stay  evolved  as  I  had  sanguinely  expected.  Then 
I  went  to  bed ;  and  in  the  watches  of  the  night  the  in 
spiration  came  to  me  to  write  to  your  very  self,  before  I 
replied  to  one  of  those  seven  letters,  and  to  answer  the 
Wise  Blackbird  by  sending  our  whole  correspondence  to 
be  printed  in  the  WIDE  AWAKE  for  the  benefit  of  whom 
it  might  concern. 

Now,  dear  Thankful,  tell  me  kindly  these  two  things, 
and  my  crusts  will  be  buttered  —  for  the  present. 

Did  I  exceed,  hyperbolically,  what  you  told  me,  in 
straight  words,  telephonically  ?  And  what  is  your  chem 
ist's  prescription —  that  I  may  put  it  into  these  petition 
ers'  pipes  and  pacify  them  ? 

Begging  your  pardon  for  the  intrusion,  and  enclosing 
stamps  for  your  reply  —  unless  I  happen  to  seal  up  and 
forget  to,  in  which  case  I  shall  be  comforted  by  remem 
bering  that  the  new  postage  is  saving  you  a  margin  for 
just  such  emergencies, 

I  am  yours  in  full  faith  and  fellowship, 

A.  D.  T.  w. 

[The  above  letter,  sent  to  the  Central  Office,  in  the  ex 
pectation  that  through  the  columns  of  WIDE  AWAKE  it 
would  reach  the  eye  of  Thankful  Holme,  who,  like  Tup- 
per's  "  wife  of  thy  youth,"  was  believed  to  be  surely 
"  living  somewhere  on  the  earth,"  since,  even  with  the 
vision  of  imagination,  you  can  indeed  "  see  nothing  that 
is  n't  there  "  —  lay  for  a  brief  interval  in  the  editor's 
drawer.  Now,  to  this  centre  of  reality  many  of  the  seers 
and  tellers  of  Innerland  drop  in  ;  sometimes,  also,  they 
who  are  lovers  and  readers  only  ;  and  it  so  happened  one 
day  that  two  or  three  of  them  fell  to  discussing  Soap- 
Bubble  Parties  and  Buttered  Crusts. 

"  I  know  quite   well   it  is  a   fact,"   said   a  bright  and 


106  HOMESPUN  YARNS. 

blessed  lady ;  "  I  heard  of  it  from  an  intimate  friend  who 
lives  at  Broadtop.  Thankful  Holme  was  a  real  girl,  and 
she  is  really  now  Mrs.  Raynald  Shatoraine.  They  are 
in  Italy ;  are  going  to  spend  the  winter  in  Florence." 

The  WIDE  AWAKE  editor  pulled  out  the  manuscript 
"  Open  Letter."  "  We  were  sure  of  it  ^"  she  exclaimed. 
"  Of  her  living  and  being,  I  mean.  We  were  only  wait 
ing  to  add  to  our  faith  the  knowledge  of  her  whereabouts. 
Could  you  get  her  address  ?  " 

"  Nothing  more  easy,"  was  the  reply.  So  then  and 
there  the  "  missing  link  "  was  discovered  and  joined  on  ; 
the  letter  was  dispatched  by  the  next  English  steamer ; 
four  weeks  later  came  back  the  reply  ;  and  the  two  are 
now  placed  on  record  together.] 

LETTER  II. 

CASA  GUIDI,  FLORENCE,  December,  1883. 

MY  DEAR  A.  D.  T.  W.  :  —  I  reply  at  once  to  your 
letter  just  received.  So  the  thin  defenses  are  broken 
down  ;  Innerland,  like  Japan,  is  thrown  open  to  foreign 
ers  ;  and  not  the  story-tellers  alone,  but  henceforth  the 
story-people  themselves  may  lie  at  the  mercy  of  invaders, 
kind  and  complimentary,  but  unaware  as  individuals  that 
their  collective  name  is  legion,  and  that  a  legion  of  any 
thing  may  drive  a  hunted  creature  into  the  tombs.  I  am 
afraid  you  have  been  unwary ;  it  is  a  dangerous  prece 
dent  —  to  make  public.  It  would  have  been  a  grand  and 
charming  thing  —  a  Columbus  discovery  —  kept  to  you 
and  me,  and  our  convives  on  either  side.  What  lovely 
collusions  —  what  complete  and  splendid  understandings 
—  there  might  have  been  !  What  bubbles  we  could  have 
blown  —  putting  our  pipes  together  !  But  begun  in  this 
patent  fashion,  where  is  our  shelter  —  what  becomes  of 


THE  SOAP-BUBBLE   QUESTION.  107 

our  close  corporation  which  is  our  power  and  privilege  ? 
As  now  the  author  is  approached  through  the  "  care  "  of 
publishers  (would  that  the  care  could  sometimes  be  pro 
tection!),  so  we  story-folk  shall  be  besieged  through  our 
chroniclers,  until  with  much  explaining  and  supplement 
ing  of  ourselves,  and  much  writing  of  autographs,  we 
shall  find  no  time  left  us  for  being,  and  shall  gradually 
vanish  like  the  fairies,  or  dwindle  into  insignificance  like 
the  too  delicious  and  well-beloved  lobsters  ! 

Dear  Bo-Peeps  of  readers !  When  up  you  tooks  your 
little  crooks,  determined  for  to  find  us  —  just  consider  ! 
Be  wise  for  yourselves  ;  stop  asking  for  more  ;  keep  quiet 
a  little ;  let  us  alone,  and  we  '11  come  home,  and  bring 
our  best  tales  behind  us  ! 

This  much  on  the  defensive,  and  in  honest  answer  to 
your  representative  preamble.  Next  for  your  question 
ings  : 

Even  you  may  not  demand  too  much  "  more  "  from 
Inneiiand.  I  am  not  sure  that  upon  any  other  point  — 
say  upon  how  things  happened  at  Aunt  Salva's  after  Mrs. 
Shatoraine  came  to  see  me  there,  or  reason  why  Mr.  Shat- 
oraine  went  out  and  dined  with  us  at  Broadtop  ;  or  what 
I  had  to  wear  one  evening  when  we  did  n't  have  a  soap- 
bubble  party  there  —  if  those  had  been  the  inquiries  — 
well,  I  don't  think  I  could  have  enlarged  your  "  Scrap 
No.  3,"  or  have  translated  any  of  your  "  remote  allu 
sions."  But  I  am  full  of  interest  in  the  bubble-builders  ; 
and  a  mention  of  that  subject  sets  me  off  at  once,  as  some 
people  are  touched  off  with  a  word  upon  the  Pyramids 
or  the  Mounds. 

You  don't  surprise  me  in  the  least  with  your  experi 
ences.  I  have  traveled  over  the  same  road.  The  places 
in  our  lives  that  we  ski}),  in  telephoning  to  our  amanu 
enses,  are  full  of  just  the  delays  and  waitings  and  stayings 


108  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

where  we  were,  that  you  others  have.  It  won't  do  to  put 
them  all  in  the  stories.  Readers  would  n't  live  through 
them  with  us. 

My  chemist  was  of  scarcely  more  use  to  me  than  yours. 
He  only  explained  to  me  frankly  that  "  oleate  of  soda " 
was  as  nearly  as  possible  the  same  thing  as  pure  white 
Castile  soap.  He  also  said  that  oleate  of  potash  —  soft 
soap  —  was  even  better  "  for  a  viscous  fluid."  I  began  to 
think  there  was  nothing  in  it  but  a  vicious  fluid  that  would 
altogether  elude  and  mock  me.  In  short,  all  the  prescrip 
tions  I  could  get  ran,  or  might  have  run,  thus : 


Oleate  potass  : 
vel 

Misee. 
Suffla. 

I  stood  thinking  while  the  man  talked  to  me.  I  re 
membered  the  bubbles  I  used  to  blow  at  grandmamma's, 
when  old  Batsie  made  the  suds  for  me,  with  hot  soft  water 
and  a  handful  of  brown  topaz-colored  jelly  out  of  the  big 
barrel  that  was  always  kept  supplied  with  the  real  old- 
fashioned  wood-lye-and-honest-kitchen-grease  compound. 
There  is  no  such  soft  soap  now ;  at  least,  I  was  sure  I 
could  not  find  any ;  so  I  bought  the  next  best  thing  of  the 
chemist ;  the  bottled  white  dust  such  as  was  sent  to  you, 
and  which  makes  such  a  soapy  tingle  in  your  throat  and 
nostrils  when  you  shake  it  out. 

Then  I,  too,  went  home,  shut  myself  up,  and  fell  ex 
perimenting.  I  went  through  with  the  glycerine,  the 
gum,  the  starch ;  I  tried  besides,  sugar,  white  of  egg,  and 
gelatine.  Starch  was  the  best.  Soft  warm  water  just 


'THE  SOAP-BUBBLE   QUESTION.  109 

characterized  with  a  fine,  well-boiled  preparation  of  it  — 
not  more  substantial  than  ordinary  rice  -  water  —  made 
into  suds  with  oleate  at  discretion,  resulted  in  tenacious 
bubbles  which  had  a  peculiar  way  of  slipping  of  them 
selves,  one  after  another,  at  a  certain  size,  from  the  pipe- 
bowl,  with  the  blowing  from  a  single  filling.  They  rolled 
and  bounded  in  a  smooth,  elastic  way  upon  my  great  gray 
Himalaya  shawl,  spread  across  the  bed  for  them.  Still, 
the  tendency  of  such  addition  was  to  cause  a  denseness 
which  seemed  to  separate  itself  from  the  clear  water  ele 
ment,  settling  visibly  and  cloudily  along  the  sides  of  the 
bubble  and  forming  a  sort  of  cup  at  its  base  like  the  cup 
of  an  acorn  ;  in  that  way  finally  breaking  it  by  its  weight. 
It  was  almost  a  success,  though,  and  I  rested  in  it  with  a 
kind  of  half  content  for  a  day  or  two. 

Then  a  lovely  idea  dawned  suddenly.  Glycerine  —  the 
"  sweet  principle  of  oil,"  —  and  aqua  ammonia,  most  deli 
cate  and  pungent  of  alkalies  ! 

I  put  these  two  together,  in  equal  parts ;  the  glycerine 
was  etherealized.  I  added  this  spirit  of  soap  to  an 
"  oleate  "  soap-suds  —  about  two  teaspoonfuls  to  a  half 
pint  of  water,  and  had  a  beautiful  bubble-pai'ty  with  only 
myself  and  the  bubbles. 

The  soft,  dark,  blankety  shawl  stretched  over  my  coun 
terpane  made  an  elastic  level ;  and  a  handkerchief  at 
hand,  to  brush  off  any  drops,  kept  it  in  good  condition. 
The  ammonia  seemed,  while  enhancing  the  sudsiness,  to 
thin  the  mixture  to  that  consistency  which  gave  the  most 
brilliant  colors ;  these  being  always  dependent,  as  you 
know  from  Professor  Rogers,  upon  the  tenuity  of  the  film, 
and  changing  down  its  surface  as  the  water,  settling, 
leaves  the  upper  part  of  the  bubbles  thinnest.  Red  falls 
lowest ;  then  comes  orange  ;  then  gold,  green,  blue,  violet, 
in  their  order ;  the  delicate  tints  only  appearing  as  the 


110  HOMESPUN  YARNS. 

film  grows  more  and  more  delicate.  This  is  in  accordance 
with  the  law  of  light,  like  that  of  sound ;  the  higher  notes 
—  the  higher  hues  —  coming  with  the  more  rapid  vibra 
tions  or  tremblings  of  the  waves  of  air  or  light ;  these  in 
turn  depending  upon  the  subtilty  and  imponderableness  of 
the  medium.  (This  bit  of  lecture  is  for  the  benefit  of  the 
WIDE  AWAKES,  seeing  that  you  did  not  put  yours  all  in. 
They  will  be  coming  after  us  again  if  we  leave  any  in 
complete  allusions.) 

Well,  I  blew  lots  of  bubbles,  and  dropped  them  one 
after  another,  each  —  from  the  same  pipe-full  —  brighter 
than  the  last.  They  did  everything  I  told  you;  they 
rolled  or  dropped  against  each  other  without  breaking ; 
sometimes  two  of  medium  size  would  rest  against  each 
other  for  a  moment,  and  then  sweetly  explode  into  one, 
larger  and  finer  than  either.  They  rolled  —  or  I  blew 
them  —  across  the  bed,  and  they  dropped  down  over  the 
edge,  disappearing  in  glory.  I  thought,  at  first,  they  were 
out,  of  course ;  but  presently  I  went  round  to  the  other 
side,  and  lo  !  there  was  the  whole  pretty  company  of  them 
sitting  meekly  about  upon  the  carpet. 

I  blew  big  ones  that  were  simply  glorious.  I  had  a 
little  china  mug  in  my  hand,  which  I  had  filled  with  soap 
suds  for  greater  convenience ;  and  I  achieved  a  new  de 
light  by  carefully  resting  a  bubble  in  the  process  of  blow 
ing,  within  its  rim ;  thus  supported,  I  could  swell  and 
swell  it,  drawing  cup  and  pipe  gently  apart  as  I  did  so, 
until  the  luminous  thing  was  huge  ;  at  last,  often,  I  could 
withdraw  the  pipe  cautiously,  and  hold  my  liquid  balloon 
magnificently  swaying  its  globe  of  color,  with  the  china 
mug  like  a  parachute  car  below  it.  Mind,  I  do  not  say 
that  it  would  float  the  car  up  with  it  if  I  let  it  go ! 

And  this  brings  me  to  the  second  part  of  your  inquiry. 
Did  you  —  intensify  ?  In  nothing  whatever  that  you 


THE  SOAP-BUBBLE    QUESTION.          Ill 

stated  ;  an  omission,  only,  in  one  particular,  heightened 
the  effect.  I  do  not  know  whether  you  or  I  did  the  omit 
ting.  We  did  "  catch  them  on  our  hands  and  blow  them 
off  again,"  at  the  party  ;  but  it  was  very  tenderly,  very 
dexterously,  and  with  mittens  on  !  As  to  the  racing,  and 
the  tennis,  of  course  we  did  not  play  with  bats  or  drive 
with  whips.  We  did  not  kick  them,  or  set  foot  upon  them 
and  croquet  them.  Gentle  breathings,  adroit  and  delicate 
puffs  —  to  these  they  were  altogether  tractable  ;  and  we 
did  make  sides  and  a  dividing  line  upon  the  blanket,  and 
a  game  of  which  party  should  send  the  most  bubbles  over 
into  the  opposite  ground,  and  whose  bubbles  should  be 
blown  forth  and  back  the  longest  without  falling  or  break 
ing. 

I  think  I  cannot  tell  you  very  much  more  ;  except  that 
a  bit  of  white  Castile  soap,  in  the  solid,  cut  from  a  cake 
and  kept  in  the  suds,  has  proved  every  bit  as  effectual  as 
the  "  oleate  "  powder. 

I  will  just  wind  up  with  a  mention  of  a  bubble  frolic  we 
had  here  the  other  evening  in  our  pleasant  salon,  with 
some  American  and  English  friends. 

We  had  a  big  punch-bowl  upon  a  side-table,  full  of  the 
well-prepared  soap-syllabub.  Then  each  one  of  our  num 
ber  had  a  tiny,  dainty  harlequin  cup,  and  a  pipe  of  cor 
responding  color.  We  had  chairs  around  the  long,  low 
frame  —  not  board  —  laid  upon  trestles  so  as  to  be  just 
over  our  laps  ;  upon  the  frame  a  cream-white  blanketing 
was  smoothly  strained  and  tacked  at  the  edges.  This, 
with  its  thick,  velvety  softness  and  its  elasticity,  was 
simply  perfect.  At  the  two  ends  sat  the  umpires  ;  an 
even  number  of  players  on  either  hand  were  the  "  sides." 

First  in  turn — alternating  the  sides  —  we  tried  for  the 
"  biggest  bubble."  Next,  the  most  gorgeous  —  each 
player  using  discretion  as  to  blowing  the  first,  or  any  sub- 


112  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

sequent  bubble  from  the  same  dipping.  Then  followed 
"  the  greatest  number  from  a  dip  ;  "  then  —  blowing  by 
whole  sides  in  turn  —  which  party  should  get  the  larger 
number  on  the  board  at  once.  After  that,  we  changed 
our  sets  by  dividing  across  the  board,  like  a  tennis  court ; 
and  we  had  the  blowing  across  and  back,  in  a  game  such 
as  I  have  indicated  before. 

Over  our  heads  was  a  brilliant  gasalier  with  prism- 
fringes.  I  cannot  tell  you  how  dazzling  and  enchanting 
was  the  show  and  concourse  of  our  fairy  jewel-globes  ;  nor 
how  we  were  fascinated  into  hours  of  the  beautiful  foolish 
ness.  All  solid,  graspable  things  looked  coarse  to  me 
afterward,  until  I  came  into  fitness  with  them,  and  their 
different  beauty  again,  gradually.  —  Dear  A.  D.  T.  W., 
this  is  a  world  of  glory  and  delight  that  we  are  born  into 
—  both  the  inner  and  the  outer  of  it ! 

I  am  yours,  literally,  to  command  —  at  the  rubbing  of 
the  brain-lamp  or  the  whisper  at  the  thought-telephone. 
(Only  don't  let  them  all  come  and  do  it  again,  expecting 
us  to  receive  and  consider  their  messages  ;  lest  like  Dick- 
ens's  boy  who  kept  swallowing  the  beads,  we  find  ourselves 
well-nigh  rattled  to  death  with  the  accumulation !) 

THANKFUL  HOLME  SHATOKAINE. 


HOW  THE  MIDDIES  SET  UP  SHOP. 

I. 

"  GET  the  boy  a  new  pair  of  boots  !  "  said  Doctor  Ken- 
cleverly. 

Mrs.  Frost  had  asked  him  if  he  did  not  think  Sidney 
needed  a  tonic. 

Sidney  was  the  youngest  of  the  Middies,  and  was 
slowly  recovering  from  a  mixture  of  mumps  and  measles. 
Algernon,  the  other  Middy,  stood  by  his  brother's  bed, 
dividing  very  dissatisfied  glances  between  the  doctor, 
who  evidently  ought  to  do  something  about  it,  and  the 
sick  Middy,  who  so  inertly  declined  to  do  anything.  It 
was  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  and  Sidney  had  given 
up  for  the  night.  The  boys  had  pasted  a  few  postage 
stamps,  looked  over  their  card-album,  and  then  Algernon 
had  offered  to  play  go-bang,  which  he  did  n't  care  for,  but 
which  Sidney  ordinarily  delighted  in  ;  instead  of  accepting 
which  self-renouncing  proposition,  Middy  number  two  had 
gone  bang  to  bed. 

"  Get  the  boy  a  pair  of  new  boots." 

Algernon's  face  lighted  up,  and  he  flashed  a  quick  look 
at  Sid.  Sid's  countenance  took  no  change,  unless  indeed 
the  corners  of  the  mouth  dropped  a  little  farther  into  dis- 
consolateness. 

"  He  don't  care  a  hang !  "  muttered  Algie ;  and  went 
off  disgusted.  But  his  disgust,  like  that  of  many  grown 
men,  was  largely  affection  and  anxiety. 

"  Is  he  going  to  be  mumpy  and  measly  all  the  rest  of 
his  life  ?  "  he  asked  Mrs.  Laura,  afterward. 


114  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

"  Wait  till  your  turn  comes,"  replied  Mrs.  Laura. 
"  Then  you  '11  understand." 

"  I  've  passed,"  returned  Algernon,  magnificently. 
He  had  just  begun  to  play  euchre  with  his  sisters  of  an 
early  evening  half-hour  since  Sid  had  gone  to  being  tucked 
up  at  four  or  five,  ingloriously. 

The  boots  came,  and  were  set  at  the  bedside.  Sid 
leaned  over,  looked  at  them,  and  sighed. 

"  They  look  so  awfully  big  and  heavy,"  he  said. 

Algernon  stared.  He  wondered  if  he  ever  could  really 
feel  like  that  about  a  stunning  pair  of  brand-new  boots. 

"  And  they  look  like  eggs  and  lemons  and  baking- 
powder  and  —  beefsteak  —  and  caraway-seeds,"  added 
Sidney,  forlornly. 

"  Oho  !  Errands  !  "  shouted  Algie.  "  You  're  better, 
Sid,  after  all !  " 

"  'T  ain't  fair,  I  know,"  said  Sid.  "  You  've  done  a 
heap  of  'em  since  I  've  been  sick,  and  you  've  been  awfully 
tip-top  and  good-natured.  But  I  don't  feel  as  if  I  could 
do  another  one,  ever  again." 

"  Well,  you  sha'n't,"  said  Algernon.  "  At  least,  not 
in  the  old,  never-know-what-you're-about  sort  of  way. 
Tell  you  what,  Sid,  the  reason  they  call  us  Middies  is  be 
cause  they  think  we  're  made  just  to  be  stopped  short  in 
the  middle  of  everything  —  for  care  —  away  seeds  !  "  And 
then  Algernon  went  over  and  shut  the  door  softly. 

The  girls  might  be  in  their  open  room  close  by,  and 
were  not  to  hear  secrets.  Besides.  Ethelind  and  Celia  had 
been  known  to  allege  another  origin  for  the  "  Middy  " 
title ;  putting  the  literal  fact  in  a  punning  way  that  was 
not  unsuggestive  of  sarcasm.  At  certain  troublesome  times 
they  called  these  young  fellows  the  u  Middy-evils." 

"  I  've  got  a  new  way  of  doing  errands,"  said  Algie, 
comfortably,  coming  back  to  his  brother's  bedside.  "  It 


HOW   THE  MIDDIES  SET   UP  SHOP.      115 

works  first-rate  sometimes,  but  it  wants  a  plan  to  it,  and 
you  and  I  '11  make  one." 

"  Well  —  what  ?  "  asked  Sid,  slowly.  Algie  had 
stopped,  like  the  specimen  first  page  of  a  New  York 
Ledger  story. 

"  What  —  what  ?  "  he  asked  now,  in  his  turn. 

"  Why,  the  new  way." 

"  Oh,  yes.  That  comes  first,  to  be  sure.  Didn't  know 
which  part  of  it  you  meant.  Well,  you  see,  mother  al 
ways  tells  Runy  when  she  goes  up  and  down  stairs  with 
things,  to  take  something  in  both  hands,  and  make  her 
head  save  her  heels.  So  I  made  my  head  save  my  heels  ; 
for  when  they  sent  me  for  lemons,  I  got  nutmegs,  too. 
And  when  it  was  buttons,  I  got  machine-silk,  or  elastic 
straps.  I  kept  an  eye  on  the  kitchen  boxes,  and  on  mum 
mer's  work-things.  It  did  first-rate,  most  always  ;  and 
when  it  did  n't,  mummer  only  laughed  and  said  it  was 
merely  a  question  of  time.  And  if  there  had  n't  been 
change  enough  out  of  her  money,  at  Marm  Mulligan's  — 
when  it  was  thready  things  —  she  paid  me  back.  I  keep 
a  quarter  of  a  dollar  going  on  purpose.  And,  Sid,  I  've 
found  out  about  capital  and  business.  We  could  set  up 
shop,  you  and  I,  and  save  our  boots." 

Sid  fairly  got  up  on  his  elbow.  "  Why,  that  would  be 
kinder  worth  while  getting  well !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  I 
have  n't  been  playing  possum,  either,  Al !  " 

"  No  ;  I  know  that.  Though  what  they  call  it  playing 
possum  for,  when  they  just  mean  non  possum,  I  can't  find 
out  from  the  Latin  grammar,"  answered  Al,  with  the 
superiority  of  a  boy  just  pretty  well  on  in  his  irregular 
verbs. 

"  Now  I  sha'n't  talk  to  you  any  more  till  after  your  egg- 
nogg.  And  here  comes  Dr.  Ken.  —  I  've  given  him  some 
thing  as  good  as  the  boots,"  he  remarked  to  that  gentle 
man,  as  he  relinquished  to  him  his  place  by  the  bedside. 


116  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

"  If  you  meddle  with  my  practice  you  may  take  the  case, 
young  man,"  said  Dr.  Ken,  getting  his  fingers  upon  Sid 
ney's  pulse.  "  Stronger  :  a  little  quick  ;  momentary,  that, 
I  guess.  Color  improved  —  is  that  momentary  ?  What  have 
you  been  doing  to  him  ?  " 

"  That 's  my  practice,"  said  Algernon,  stoutly.  "  Guess 
if  you  can  improve  a  minute,  you  can  improve  a  day,  if 
you  keep  on." 

"  Hullo !  "  said  the  doctor,  turning  round  upon  him. 
"  Should  n't  wonder  if  I  did  have  to  look  out  for  you,  one 
of  these  days.  Going  to  take  to  medicine  ?  " 

"  No,  sir.  Don't  like  it  well  enough.  Mean  to  trade 
in  something  I  do  like,  when  I  begin." 

"  If  you  can  keep  to  your  likes  in  any  trade,  you  '11  be 
an  exceptional  son  of  Adam,"  said  Doctor  Kencleverly, 
returning  his  attention  to  his  patient. 

"  And  you  don't  like  caraway  seeds,  nor  mustard,  nor 
rennet,  nor  yeast  cakes,  nor  half  the  things  ;  you  know  you 
don't,  Al,"  particularized  Sidney,  in  rather  a  whimsical, 
invalid  way,  it  must  be  confessed. 

"  Shut  up  ;  you  ain't  half  a  boy  again,  yet,"  said  Alger 
non. 

II. 

"  The  first  thing,"  said  Algernon,  "  is  capital.  How 
much  can  you  put  in  ?  " 

"  Money  ?  Oh,  I  've  got  lots.  A  quarter  for  that  castor 
oil  —  and  ten  cents  for  the  saffron  tea  —  and  ten  cents  a 
week  more  of  allowance  that  I  had  n't  a  chance  to  do  any 
thing  with  but  save  up — and  a  half  that  Aunt  Lottie  gave 
me  —  and  a  nickel  that  I  sold  those  marbles  for,  'cause 
marble  time  would  be  over  before  measles  —  it 's  a  dollar 
and  twenty  ;  count  up  !  "  Sid  reached  out  his  little  buck 
skin  purse  from  under  his  pillow.  Algernon  counted  the 
bright  pieces. 


HOW   THE  MIDDIES  SET   UP  SHOP.      117 

"  Well !  that's  jolly,"  he  said.  "  I  've  only  got  my 
quarter.  'Cause  I  have  n't  gone  into  regular  business,  you 
know  ;  I  only  made  my  time  out  of  it,  saving  errands.  Now, 
we  '11  trade,  you  see,  and  have  a  profit.  —  But  look  here," 
he  broke  out,  after  a  sudden  pause,  "  we  ought  to  be  both 
alike,  or  else,  how  shall  we  divide  ?  You  've  got  —  'most 
five  times  as  much  as  I  have  —  four  times,  leaving  out  the 
twenty  cents.  Then  you  ought  to  have  four  times  as 
much  out  of  what  we  make  as  I  do.  I  'd  rather  be  more 
even,  Sid !  " 

"  You  ain't  counted  up  your  side  yet,"  returned  Sidney, 
quickly.  "There  's  that  ice-cream  you  bought  me  —  that 
was  twenty,  I  know  ;  and  the  bunch  of  bananas,  that  was 
as  much  as  twenty  more.  Twenty  and  twenty  is  forty  ; 
and  then  you  've  always  halved  with  me  ever  since  they 
let  me  have  things,  and  you  kept  your  library  book  a 
week  more  to  read  it  to  me  when  my  eyes  was  weak  — 
and  "  — 

"  You  think  I  'm  going  to  take  pay  back !  "  hooted  Al- 
gie.  "  Like  to  see  myself!  " 

"  And  you  've  got  the  whole  plan,  and  started  it,  be 
sides,"  concluded  Sidney,  not  minding  the  interruption  at 
all. 

"  Well,  that  's  something,  I  s'pose,"  admitted  square- 
minded  Algie,  after  another  pause.  "  And  I  s'pose,  too, 
I  '11  have  to  do  the  running  till  you  're  strong  enough. 
P'raps  it  's  pretty  fair.  I  '11  tell  you  what :  we  11  go  even 
halves,  but  I  '11  put  my  half  into  capital  till  it 's  up  to 
yours,  and  you  shall  take  your  share  for  spendin's ;  and 
when  we  're  even  we  '11  take  out  and  put  in  alike.  See  ?  " 

"  Won't  it  take  a  good  while  ?  "  asked  Sid. 

"  Well,  yes  ;  chargin'  fair,  it  will.  But  there  '11  be  my 
allowance,  too.  And  there  '11  be  tips,  maybe.  And  p'raps 
I  could  sell  out  something.  Joe  Rabin  wanted  my  chame- 


118  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

Icon  top  ;  I  'm  tired  of  it.  Anyhow,"  he  began  again, 
"we  '11  start,  on  a  dollar,  say.  You  seventy-five,  and  I 
a  quarter.  Then  you  can  buy  the  rest  of  your  paints  for 
the  magic-lantern  slides,  and  we  '11  have  the  three-cent 
show.  Ain't  it  first-rate  old  Doctor  Ken  keepin'  you  out 
of  school  all  summer,  hey  ?  " 

The  next  question  was  the  purchase  of  the  stock.  Sid 
ney  at  first  was  for  investing  in  varieties,  that  would  make 
a  show  spread  out  upon  a  counter.  Big-headed  pins,  and 
nickel-sheathed  ones,  stuck  on  a  red  cushion ;  buttons  and 
colored  twine  ;  alphabet  biscuits  in  a  glass  jar,  and  broken 
candy  in  another ;  lemons  and  oranges ;  five-cent  tins ; 
emptied  fruit-cans,  to  keep  matches  or  anything  in,  piled 
up  to  look  like  business. 

But  Algie  stopped  him  short.  '"  We  ain't  playiri"  he 
said.  "  It 's  goin'  to  be  the  real  thing.  And  we  can't 
hold  on  to  tin  pans  and  soap-shakers  till  somebody  that 
don't  want  'em  wants  'em ;  and  oranges  and  candy  spoil 
ing  unless  we  ate  'em  up  ;  and  all  our  money  waiting  to 
be  got  back  again.  We  want  to  turn  it  right  round,  lively  ; 
make  it  do  one  errand,  and  send  it  right  off  again  on 
another.  We  Ve  got  to  find  out  what 's  likely-sure  to  be 
wanted  next.  I  Ve  studied  the  market,"  he  finished, 
grandly  ;  "  I  've  been  round  this  morning ;  and  there  ain't 
but  a  scrapin'  of  bakin'-powder,  and  Runy  always  forgets 
it  till  the  flour  's  sifted  ;  and  the  liquid-rennet  bottle  's  all 
out,  and  so  is  the  gelatine.  There  ain't  much  of  the  cook 
ing-wine,  but  we  can't  set  up  in  that  yet  —  I  '11  have  to 
put  'em  in  mind  of  some  things  so  's  to  work  in  the  others. 
And  mother  '11  come  to  depend  on  us  for  what  we  keep, 
you  see.  It'll  be  a  regular  line  of  trade,  after  a  while. 
I  sha'n't  try  on  anything  that  I  don't  know  —  at  least, 
not  till  I  've  made  enough  to  enterprise  with.  Then,  maybe, 
we  might  start  out  now  and  then  with  things  she  would  n't 


HOW  THE  MIDDIES  SET   UP  SHOP.      119 

think  of  without  she  saw  'em ;  nice  new  cheese,  or  a  slice 
of  fresh  smoked  salmon." 

"  Or  tea-muffins,  and  a  little  jar  of  ginger,"  suggested 
Sidney,  bringing  forward  a  combination  dear  to  his  own 
palate. 

"  Yes.  Folks  buy  lots  of  things  just  because  they  are 
put  right  under  their  noses.  But  it  won't  be  pins  nor 
tins,  until  I  notice  they  're  scarce.  I  don't  mean  to  play 
sell,  nor  I  don't  want  anybody  to  play  buy,  as  father  did 
when  we  were  little,  always  givin'  us  back  the  parcels 
after  we  had  tied  'em  up  and  taken  the  money." 

The  younger  Middy  looked  at  the  elder  with  eyes  in 
which  appreciation  grew.  "  You  're  a  great  feller,  Algie," 
he  said.  "  You  just  know  how.  Go  ahead.  I  '11  leave 
it  to  you.  Only  don't  get  to  be  a  man  way  out  o'  sight  o' 
me !  " 

"  Ho,  you  '11  catch  up  !  "  answered  Algie,  with  fine  en 
couragement.  "  It 's  some  use  to  talk  to  a  person  that 
takes  you  in.  And  folks  can  be  a  man  and  a  brother  too, 
I  expect  —  if  they  're  born  so,  and  not  a  sculpin  !  " 

s 

III. 

"  Clo'espins  !  "  said  Joe  Rabin. 

Joe  had  been  taken  into  partial  confidence.  He  had 
bought  the  chameleon  top  for  fifteen  cents ;  that  had  led 
to  a  certain  explanation.  The  Middies  needed  somebody 
to  whom  to  tell  their  fine  plans,  for  the  sake  of  apprecia 
tion.  There  is  something  in  the  wishful  and  admiring  at 
titude  of  an  outside  boy,  even  if  he  only  stands  by  during 
the  eating  of  an  apple,  which  represents  the  deference  of 
a  whole  community  to  the  successful  man. 

Joe  Rabin  would  gladly  have  been  a  partner,  though  he 
carefully  did  not  say  so.  He  would  have  liked  a  piece  of 


120  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

the  apple.  But  he  did  not  even  say,  "  Gimme  a  bite  ?  " 
He  waited,  with  a  wise  patience,  which  he  had  learned  from 
such  little  experiences.  The  Middies  were  not  sure,  in 
their  private  counting-house  consultations,  that  they  would 
not  have  it  so  —  perhaps.  Joe  was  good-natured;  had 
plenty  of  pocket  money,  and  bright  ideas.  But  it  was  of 
some  of  these  ideas,  added  to  the  possibility  of  Mrs. 
Laura's  not  approving  of  too  large  a  firm,  seeing  that  her 
little  front  attic  and  the  right  of  way  over  her  back  stairs 
and  her  entry  carpets  were  concerned,  that  Algernon  was 
afraid. 

"Too  many  '11  bust  it  all  up,"  he  said.  Which  is  true 
of  a  great  many  partnerships  and  stock  companies. 

"  Clo'espins  !  "  volunteered  Joe  Rabin,  as  a  suggestion. 
"  They  're  always  gettin'  shied  off  under  the  bushes,  an' 
broke  in  two,  an'  used  up  fer  kindlin's.  And  when  the 
wash  is  puttin'  out  —  my !  wouldn't  a  corner  in  clo'espins 
be  a  good  thing  ?  " 

Joe  Rabin  belonged  to  a  smart  family,  who  enjoyed 
smartness,  even  only  through  the  newspapers.  He  had 
heard  his  uncle  —  who  had  a  broker-and-general-agency 
sign  out,  and  lived  on  the  horizon-edge  of  such  things  — 
talk  them  over  imposingly  with  his  father. 

"We  take  care  of  our  clothespins,"  said  Algernon. 
"  We  have  two  cents  apiece  a  week  for  picking  them  up, 
and  bringing  in  the  line."  Algernon  was  particular  about 
his  terminal  "  g's  "  and  other  niceties  of  speech,  when  he 
talked  with  Joe  Rabin,  who  let  so  many  things  slip. 

"  Good  for  you,  then.     You  've  got  the  inside  track  !  " 

Algernon  stared.  His  uprightness  was  mystified  for 
the  first  instant.  In  the  next,  his  quick  perception  saw 
through  the  hint. 

"  I  have  four  corners  to  my  business,"  he  said,  proudly. 
"  It 's  on  the  square  !  "  And  it  was  after  that,  that  he  quite 


HOW   THE  MIDDIES  SET   UP  SHOP.      121 

made  up  his  mind  that  Joe  Rabin  would  n't  do  for  a  part 
ner.  "  Not  at  any  price,"  he  declared  to  Sid,  who  was 
rather  impressed  with  Joe's  sharpness,  and  inclined  to  be 
taught  of  him.  It  was  good  for  Sid  that  Algie  was  First 
Middy,  and  head  of  the  house. 

"  There  's  something  to  hitch  on  to  in  that  clothespin 
notion,"  said  Algie,  a  while  after.  "  But  it  ain't  on  Joe 
Rabin's  line.  Hiding  and  cornering,  and  shoving  and 
shifting  "  —  he  put  on  all  his  "  g's  "  with  dignified  empha 
sis  —  "  don't  make  anything,  anywhere.  You  've  got  to 


DIAGRAM    OF   CLOTHESPIN-LINE. 


put  in  something,  if  you  want  to  take  it  out,  unless  you 
like  stealing,  which  I  don't.  I  've  been  thinking  out  a 
thing,  and  it  is  this.  I  'm  going  to  make  a  clothespin- 
line." 

"  What 's  that  ?  " 

"  A  string  of  'em.  Screw  eyes  in  'em  —  or  double  tin- 
tacks  will  do,  and  be  cheaper  —  and  hang  'em  all  together 
on  a  cord  —  fishline  's  the  thing ;  fix  some  round  sticks, 
or  have  some  long  spike-pins,  with  holes  through  the  top- 


122  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

ends  —  kind  o'  needle-rods,  or  nails  —  and  drive  'em  into 
the  tops  of  the  clothes-poles ;  run  the  lines  through  the 
holes,  and  put  sinkers  on  the  ends,  and  let  'em  hang  down 
—  to  keep  the  lines  taut,  or  let  'em  out,  as  you  pull  down 
the  pins,  you  see." 

Sid  looked  a  little  as  if  he  did  not  see ;  and  Algie 
picked  up  a  piece  of  chalk  —  they  were  in  the  tool-room 
together  —  and  began  to  illustrate  on  a  board  (see  dia 
gram)  :  — 

"  There ;  those  under  lines  are  the  regular  clothes 
lines  ;  the  upper  ones  are  the  pin-lines.  You  hang  the 
sheets  and  things  on  the  under  lines,  and  pin  'em  down  as 
you  go  along.  There  you  have  it ;  pins  always  ready, 
clean,  up  in  the  air ;  the  Runies  and  Biddies  won't  have 
to  carry  'em  in  their  teeth  any  more,  nor  fling  'em  all 
round  the  lot  when  they  pull  'em  out,  and  then  hunt  'em 
out  of  the  grass  and  the  gravel,  or  sing  out  for  more, 
when  they  want  'em  again." 

"  They  '11  get  wet,  and  rot  out,  sometimes,  won't  they  ?  " 

"  That  '11  be  the  trade  ;  they  do  now.  We  '11  keep  'em 
on  hand  —  fishlines  and  sinkers,  and  eye-headed  clothes 
pins  ;  string  on  a  new  lot  when  you  want  'em  —  after 
you  've  got  the  posts  fixed  —  don't  you  see  how  good  it  '11 
be?" 

"  Ye-es,"  said  Sid,  slowly.  "  But  how  '11  they  flop  the 
sheets  and  things  over  the  line,  with  the  pin-lines  in  the 
way  ?  " 

Algernon  looked  for  a  half  minute  as  if  there  were  a 
missing  link  in  his  creation ;  but  suddenly  brightened  up 
to  say  —  "  Why,  they  won't  flop  'em  over  at  all !  they  '11 
just  double  'em  up  in  the  middle,  or  take  'em  by  the  edge, 
and  pin  that  over  —  the  proper  way,"  he  boldly  asserted, 
as  people  do  sometimes  most  boldly  assert  the  thing  that 
has  but  just  occurred  to  them. 


HOW   THE  MIDDIES  SET   UP  SHOP.      123 

Nevertheless,  Algernon  was  right ;  and  came  to  his 
Tightness  by  a  process  of  fit  adjustment  of  one  good  thing 
to  another. 

"  They  '11  last  a  long  time,"  said  Sid.  "  We  sha'n't 
have  much  trade  in  clothespins." 

"Pho!  You  ain't  any  calculator  at  all !"  cried  Algie. 
"  Improvements  always  make  business.  We  Ve  got  the 
whole  thing  to  sell.  How  much  should  we  ever  make  on 
three-cents-a-dozen  clothespins  ?  We  sha'n't  have  any  ex 
tra  cost  but  the  string  and  the  tin-tacks  —  and  the  spikes, 
perhaps  ;  and  mummer  '11  give  us  a  dollar  a  set,  like  's  not 
—  for  the  putting  up  and  all." 

Then  Sidney  fired  up  all  at  once  with  enthusiasm,  as 
slow-match  people  do  when  the  powder  catches. 

"  Don't  tell  anybody  !  "  he  cried.  "  Let 's  make  a  lot 
of  'em  before  we  show  out  at  all ;  and  sell  'em  all  over 
the  hill  at  once,  before  folks  copy !  all  fair  to  hide  that 
much,  ain't  it  ?  " 

"  'Course.  That 's  our  patent.  Tell  you  what,  Sid,  it  '11 
be  a  first-rate  concern,  all  of  itself  —  if  folks  '11  only  buy. 
Why,  think  of  ten  dollars  for  a  capital  in  the  general 
grocery  line  !  How  's  that  for  high  ?  " 

The  boys  really  did  string  their  clothespins,  and  put  up 
the  spikes  for  six  separate  customers,  including  Mrs. 
Laura.  They  paid  fifty  cents  for  two  balls  of  large, 
strong,  smooth  English  twine  —  they  did  not  afford  fish- 
line  in  their  first  venture  ;  —  forty  more  to  the  blacksmith 
for  a  lot  of  iron  pins  bored  at  one  end ;  two  cents  a 
dozen,  at  wholesale,  for  clothespins,  of  which  they  ar 
ranged  five  dozen  to  the  set ;  seventy  cents  for  half  a 
dozen  boxes  of  tin-tacks  ;  two  dollars  and  twenty  cents  for 
the  whole  ;  making,  as  it  resulted,  a  profit  of  three  dollars 
and  eighty  cents.  To  do  all  this,  they  had  waited  till 
their  first  capital,  by  Algie 's  careful  application  of  the 


124  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

principle  of  demand  and  supply,  had  been  "  turned  round 
lively  "  several  times,  with  fair  increase.  Then  Sidney 
put  in  the  fifty-five  cents  which  he  had  reserved  for  glass- 
paints  ;  notwithstanding  which  additional  sum  on  his  part, 
Algie  had,  by  the  top  sale,  that  of  a  second-best  jack- 
knife,  and  one  or  two  lesser  bits  of  personal  property, 
with  his  weekly  allowances,  brought  his  money  share  of 
the  partnership  some  thirty  cents  nearer  an  equality ;  at 
which  point,  in  consideration  of  "  ideas,"  and  "  experi 
ence,"  which  their  father  had  told  them  always  counted, 
they  decided  to  go  cheerfully  on  and  "  call  it  even." 

They  did  not  buy  all  their  twine  and  tin-tacks  and 
clothespins  at  once,  and  they  only  had  four  spikes  forged  ; 
with  an  understanding  as  to  prices  according  to  future 
purchases.  They  made  Mrs.  Laura's  lines  first,  and  got 
her  acceptance  and  encouragement,  under  stern  promise 
of  secrecy.  This,  Mr.  Frost  told  them,  was  entering  a 
"  caveat." 

They  gathered  together  a  quantity  of  old  lead,  which 
they  melted  and  ran  in  disks  with  holes  through  the  mid 
dles,  for  side-weights,  or  "  sinkers  ; "  through  these  they 
were  to  knot  the  ends  of  their  lines. 

A  few  days'  busy  work  with  gimlet  and  string  and  pins, 
and  a  file  for  smoothing  the  spike-eyes,  completed  in  the 
end  the  whole  half-dozen  sets  ;  then  Runy  was  put  in 
possession  of  hers,  and  made  a  Monday's  trial  brilliantly. 
A  neighbor's  girl  strolled  in  from  an  errand  as  she  was 
taking  in  her  clothes  from  drying.  Runy  ripped  off  the 
pins,  letting  them  fly,  as  she  went  along,  with  the  most 
delightful  abandonment.  When  she  had  piled  the  four 
lines-full  of  white  linens  and  cottons  in  a  sweet,  rough 
heap  upon  the  big  clothes-basket,  she  turned  back  upon 
her  round  without  remark,  pushed  each  section  of  hang 
ing  pins  into  a  big  cluster  against  a  post,  gave  the  weight 


HOW  THE  MIDDIES  SET   UP  SHOP.      125 

at  that  end  a  pull  which  drew  the  opposite  one  up  chock, 
and  so,  with  a  quiet  ostentation,  smoothed  the  whole  ar 
rangement  tidy  for  the  next  hanging.  No  one  would 
have  supposed  it  to  be  the  first  time  she  had  made  use  of 
the  convenience.  But  then,  it  is  the  peculiar  genius  of 
the  class  "girl"  —  and  in  opposite  ratio  to  its  advance 
in  civilization  —  to  take  for  granted  most  coolly  whatever 
latest  improvements  the  century  and  the  Republic  provide 
for  it ;  as  if  it  were  but  a  tardy  importation  from  the 
resources  and  long  familiar  use  of  the  luxurious  cabins 
on  the  other  side.  To  be  astonished  is  as  far  from  the 
serene  highnesses  of  the  "  intelligence "  order,  as  from 
the  stoical  red  Indian  or  the  London  dude.  I  heard,  the 
other  day,  the  calm  comment  of  a  woman  from  the  rural 
depths  of  New  Brunswick,  on  her  first  search  for  a  "  sit 
uation  "  in  Boston.  She  had  been  sent  to  an  advertise 
ment  address.  "  It  was  as  big  and  handsome  a  private 
house  as  I  ever  seen,"  was  her  casual  report.  She  had 
been  to  Hotel  Vendome. 

"  That  's  a  putty  good  way  them  lines  comes  now,  is  n't 
it  thin  ?  "  asked  Nora,  with  wisely  guarded  interest. 

"  'Dade,  an'  they  're  but  jist  come,  thin,  an'  ther  's  but 
the  wan  place  ye  can  git  'em,"  returned  Rimy,  picking  up 
her  heavy  basket  with  a  tug  of  strong  muscles  and  a  back 
ward  strain  of  her  whole  body,  as  she  partly  swung  her 
burden  forward  with  her  knees,  moving  capably  toward 
her  kitchen  door  with  it,  and  sending  her  words  over  her 
shoulder  at  the  same  time  to  her  friend  who  followed. 
"  'T  ain't  the  valye  o'  the  pins,  annyway,  but  the  muss 
and  fuss  o'  droppin'  'em  an'  huntin'  'em  out  o'  the  dirt. 
Yer  've  alwers  got  'em,  ye  see,  t'  yer  han'.  Yes  —  it  's 
good  enough  —  for  wan  thing." 

Nora  reported  at  home,  in  the  laundry  at  "  Troopers," 
as  she  easily  called  her  place  of  resident  service.  And 


126  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

the  next  week  the  Trupeares  had  the  Middy  "  eye-and- 
line  attachment." 

It  worked  excellently  well  all  through  the  neighbor 
hood  ;  the  reason  it  has  not  spread  further  is  because  in 
ventions  always  move  slowly  unless  you  sell  out  your 
patent  for  a  trifle  to  a  company,  who  will  obligingly  intro 
duce  it  for  their  own  large  realizing ;  and  the  Middies 
preferred  a  local  manufacture,  and  the  securing  of  such 
proceeds  as  might  be ;  through  which  little  way  of  the 
world  it  is  that  the  world  is  kept  waiting  for  this,  and  for 
many  another  nice  thing. 

IV. 

Custom  was  dull,  sometimes,  of  course.  The  house- 
girls  from  the  Brim  did  not  always  stop  at  the  Middies' 
shop  to  save  their  time,  though  Mrs.  Laura  had  allowed 
the  boys  to  move  to  the  lower  floor  for  the  advantages  of 
trade  and  in  consideration  of  back  stairs  and  carpets.  In 
fact  it  was  only  since  they  had  had  their  quarters  in  the 
little  basement  that  used  to  be  a  store-room,  under  the 
area-steps  that  led  to  it  and  to  the  cellars,  that  their  more 
extended  custom  had  come  in.  Nora,  from  the  Trupeares, 
making  friendly  calls  in  Runy's  kitchen,  had  learned  the 
convenience  of  the  social  and  domestic  combination,  and 
had  run  in  often  for  yeast-cakes,  which  —  of  the  com 
pressed  sort  —  were  a  trouble  to  keep  supplied,  and  of 
inappreciable  profit,  though  serving  a  purpose  as  drawing 
other  trade.  But  since  their  basement  opening  there  had 
been  a  pretty  steady  run  ;  hardly  a  day  without  two  or 
three  sales  at  least,  besides  home  consumption ;  only  vary 
ing  as  the  house-girls  aforesaid  fancied  the  varying  of 
their  trips  by  keeping  on  into  the  village  or  failed  of  the 
convenience  of  small  change,  which  the  ladies  of  the 


HOW   THE  MIDDIES  SET   UP   SHOP.      127 

Round  might  not  always  have  at  hand  or  stop  to  look 
for,  although  they  patronized  through  their  servants,  in  a 
half-amused  and  half-accommodated  way,  the  amateur  es 
tablishment  so  comfortably  at  hand. 

It  was  on  one  of  a  succession  of  dull  mornings,  when 
only  the  two  young  Trupeares  had  been  in  and  bought 
cornballs,  that  Sidney  abruptly  broke  forth  :  — 

"  I  say,  Al !  this  ain't  much  fun,  after  all.  Let 's  get 
up  a  peep-show." 

"  No."    Algie  answered  with  brief  decision. 

"  Why  not  ?  The  boys  would  all  come.  Might  be  a 
cent  show,  or  a  tenpinner ;  and  pins  help  the  concern, 
you  know."  The  shop  was  usually  "  the  concern,"  now, 
in  the  partners'  consultations.  Pins,  strings,  and  wrap 
ping-papers  were  carefully  saved  and  put  up  in  balls, 
boxes  and  bundles,  as  merchandise  ;  costing  nothing  but 
the  collecting,  so  that  the  very  cheap  rate  at  which  Mrs. 
Laura  and  her  older  daughters  repurchased  their  waifs 
was  all  profit ;  there  being  but  one  stipulation  —  that  the 
boys,  on  honor,  were  to  take  no  pins  from  cushions  or 
papers  for  their  stock. 

"As  if  we  would !  "  Algie  had  cried,  indignantly. 
"  We  'd  as  soon  crib  off  Ma'am  Mulligan's  counters !  " 

Mrs.  Laura  had  used  to  save  string  herself  ;  but  it  was 
a  luxury  to  hand  over  the  wraps  and  ties  of  parcels  to  the 
Middies,  and  to  receive  them  again,  for  a  small  tax, 
neatly  sorted,  wound,  and  folded. 

So  Sid  argued  for  his  peep-show,  as  a  side  departure, 
that  it  would  bring  in  convertible  property  at  least.  But 
Algie  reiterated  his  "  no." 

"  I  shall  stick  to  my  line,"  he  said.  "  There  's  always 
dull  times  in  business.  That 's  part  of  the  —  experience." 
He  caught  himself  just  in  time  to  substitute  the  maturer 
word  for  the  boyish  and  forbidden  "  play,"  that  he  had 
been  very  near  using. 


128  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

"  But  you  went  into  the  clothespins,"  said  Sidney. 

"  They  warn't  off  the  line,"  declared  Algernon,  not  per 
ceiving  his  pun  till  he  had  made  it,  and  then  leaving  it 
unnoticed  to  follow  his  graver  intention.  "  That  grew 
out  of  the  business,  and  was  to  make  capital.  An  inven 
tion  might  happen  to  anybody.  But  that  is  n't  to  be  the 
rule.  A  peep-show  I  " 

"  Well,  you  said  the  three-cent  magic  lantern,  a  while 
ago,"  persisted  Sidney. 

"  So  I  did,"  acknowledged  Algernon.  "  And  that  does 
amount  to  something  on  your  side.  But  I  don't  know  as  I 
should  say  it  now.  I  've  looked  into  things  since  then, 
and  I  don't  believe  in  mixing  up.  I  would  n't  set  up  Bar- 
num's  greatest  on  earth,  if  I  had  it,  unless  I  gave  up 
groceries  and  domestic  varieties  first,  and  went  slap  into 
the  beastly  varieties  instead.  There  's  no  sense  in  being 
in  but  one  thing  at  a  time." 

Mrs.  Laura  heard  this  bit  of  conversation  from  her 
little  flower  -  balcony  overhead,  as  she  indeed  often  got 
scraps  of  private  counting  -  house  conversation,  without 
coming  there  to  listen,  or  ever  listening  long  without  giv 
ing  audible  hint,  or  direct  announcement  of  her  presence. 
"  You  know  I  'm  often  out  here,  boys,"  she  would  say. 

"  Mother 's  a  gentleman  !  "  Algernon  said  of  her,  once. 
"  Lady  "  was  too  limited  a  term,  besides  being  a  matter  of 
course,  to  express  the  out-and-out  style  of  nobility  that  he 
meant  by  it ;  there  was  a  force  in  the  honor  which  she 
practiced  and  taught  them,  which  nothing  short  of  full 
manliness  in  a  man's  opportunities  and  exigencies  could 
test  and  illustrate. 

Mother  Laura  told  her  husband  of  the  peep-show  talk. 
Stewart  Frost  laughed,  but  his  eyes  shone.  "  There 's 
stuff  in  that  boy,"  he  said.  "  I  should  like  to  be  sure  that 
the  two  would  be  grown-up  partners  some  day,"  he  added 


HOW   THE  MIDDIES  SET   UP  SHOP.      129 

presently.  "  Sid  needs  just  that  kind  of  veto-power  and 
example  over  him." 

"  Well,  he  '11  have  it  for  half  a  dozen  years  to  come,' 
said  Mrs.  Laura,  hopefully.  "  By  that  time  there  may  be 
two  of  them.  Sid  sees  things,  when  they  're  put  in  the 
right  light." 

"  But  Al  never  takes  a  side-squint,"  said  Mr.  Frost. 
"  However,  there  is  time,  as  you  say.  And  their  mother  's 
a  gentleman  !  " 

"  This  shopkeeping  is  more  than  a  play,"  the  father  re 
marked  again,  after  an  interval  in  which  he  had  appar 
ently  forgotten  it  in  the  reading  of  the  evening  paper. 

"  Everything  is  more  than  a  play,"  said  Mrs.  Laura. 

"  Highly  sententious  and  most  intrinsically  true,"  said 
Stewart.  "  A  good  solution  to  half  the  difficulties  of 
education.  But  it  is  curious,  nevertheless,  how  the  princi 
ples  of  trade  come  up  and  develop  in  this  boy  business. 
I  'm  looking  out  just  now  for  a  corner  in  lemons.  It 's  the 
dry  time  for  them,  and  Porson's  stock  has  been  getting 
low.  I  noticed  Algie  examining  them  the  other  day,  when 
he  stopped  in  on  his  way  to  town  with  me.  He  brought 
out  some  heavy  stuff  in  your  borrowed  bag ;  but  I  don't 
see  any  display  of  the  article  yet  on  his  counter.  I  never 
ask  him  any  questions,  or  make  suggestions  ;  I  only  hold 
myself  ready  to  answer  anything  he  may  ask  me." 

It  fitted  right  on  to  this,  that  the  very  next  morning,  the 
two  Middies  walking  down  to  the  train  with  their  father, 
Algernon  put  the  inquiry  —  "  Papa,  how  much  do  you 
think  it 's  fair  to  put  on  to  the  price  of  things  that  are  per 
ishable,  to  pay  for  the  perishing  ?  " 

"  Well,"  replied    Mr.  Frost,  deliberately,   "  we  '11  put  a 

case.     A  man  brings  a  cargo  of  oranges  and  bananas  from 

the  West  Indies  and  Florida.     It  costs  him  a  certain  sum 

to  equip   his  vessel,  feed  and    pay  his  men,  and  buy  his 

9 


130  HOMESPUN  YARNS. 

cargo.  He  must  get  back  all  that,  and  a  fair  percentage 
of  profit  for  carrying  on  the  business.  If  he  does  the  best 
he  can,  sells  his  fruit  as  soon  as  he  can  after  it  gets  here, 
takes  all  the  care  possible  that  it  is  not  injured  needlessly 
in  the  handling,  and  then  finds  from  experience  that  a 
twentieth  part,  say,  is  lost  from  the  nature  of  the  goods  — 
I  suppose  that  twentieth  of  the  original  cost  should  be 
added  to  the  valuation  of  the  lot  in  calculating  the  average 
price.  It  is  the  same  thing  as  a  duty  which  he  has  to  pay 
for  bringing  them  in." 

"  Well,  then,"  said  the  boy,  "  if  he  saves  up  for  a 
scarce  time,  he  must  n't  expect  to  get  back  what  he  loses 
while  he  's  waiting,  must  he  ?  " 

"  That 's  one  of  the  things  a  man  settles  with  his  own 
mind,"  said  Stewart  Frost.  "  With  most  men,  as  the 
world  of  business  goes,  the  must  n't  applies  to  the  losing 
—  in  any  way.  Nothing  is  to  be  lost  that  they  can  make 
other  people  pay  for." 

Algernon  was  silent  a  minute.  Then  he  said,  ' '  It  don't 
seem  to  me,  father,  that  that 's  doing  things  up  square." 

Then  his  father  was  silent,  and  Algernon  spoke  again. 

"  When  I  play  a  play,  I  want  the  rules  to  be  made 
plain  and  fair,  all  round,  and  kept  to ;  or  else  there  is  n't 
any  real  hang-together  to  it.  And  I  should  think  it  ought 
to  be  so  with  what  men  do  ;  or  else  there  's  no  fun  in  the 
whole  big  play  of  the  world." 

"  In  the  big  play,  Algie."  said  Mr.  Frost,  "  there  are 
some  big  rules,  to  be  sure  ;  there  are  some  things  that  are 
clearly  against  the  law,  and  that  people  would  be  disgraced 
and  punished  for  ;  but  there  are  ever  so  many  little  va 
riations  and  exceptions  that  each  one  has  to  decide  for 
himself  as  he  goes  along." 

"  And  if  a  good  many  people  do  the  same  way,  it  makes 
a  kind  of  rule  ?  "  put  Algernon,  interrogatively. 


HOW   THE  MIDDIES  SET   UP  SHOP.      131 

"  Exactly  so.  It  becomes  public  opinion  ;  tone  of  trade ; 
the  unwritten  code  of  commerce." 

"  And  I  should  think  everybody  would  want  that  to  be 
first-rate,"  said  Algie. 

"Anybody  would  think  so,"  returned  his  father.  "And 
yet,  come  to  practice,  the  world  gets  into  considerable  of 
a  snarl." 

"I  shouldn't  want  to  be  one  to  put  a  kink  into  it," 
said  the  boy,  manfully. 

"  Keep  on  thinking  so,  and  maybe  you  '11  help  to  take  a 
kink  out,"  answered  the  man,  childlikely. 

"  It  must  needs  be  that  offenses  come,  but  woe  unto  him 
by  whom  the  offense  cometh."  Neither  of  them  remem 
bered  the  words  at  the  moment ;  possibly  the  child  did  not 
yet  know  them  ;  but  the  Word  that  was  nigh  them  had 
said  to  them  the  same  thing,  out  of  the  same  Life. 


V. 

One  afternoon,  not  long  after  this,  the  Ostridges,  upon 
the  Round,  sat  in  their  summer  dining-room,  over  their 
dessert. 

"  I  wonder  how  many  '  miles  '  we  are  '  from  a  lemon,'  " 
said  Mrs.  Ostridge,  as  the  waitress  placed  before  her  some 
dainty  dish  in  which  lemons  had  been  desired,  but  some 
thing  different  substituted.  "  Cook  tells  me  Porson  has 
nothing  but  '  skins  and  bones '  left.  I  think,  Talfrey,  I 
must  trouble  you  to  inquire  in  town  to-morrow,"  she 
added,  to  her  husband. 

Talfrey,  Junior,  glanced  up  from  his  plate.  "  I  know 
who  's  got  some  ;  elegant  ones,  too,"  he  said. 

Mrs.  Ostridge  looked  surprised. 

"  It 's  Frost  Brothers,"  continued  the  youth,  calmly. 
"Mr.  Stewart  Frost's  boys.  They've  got  a  solemn-ear- 


132  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

nest  store,  father,  down  in  their  basement.  I  saw  lemons 
there  this  morning." 

"  I  should  like  to  see  a  solemn-earnest  store  —  particu 
larly  one  kept  by  a  firm  of  boys,"  said  Mr.  Talfrey  Os- 
tridge.  "  In  what  do  the  solemnity  and  earnestness  con 
sist  ?  " 

"  In  having  it  all  regular,  and  keeping  it  up,  and  not 
eating  up  the  goodies,  and  studying  the  market  "  —  here 
he  was  quoting  —  "  and  laying  in  supplies  of  what 's  sure 
to  be  wanted,  and  doing  everything  on  the  fiercest  kind  of 
a  square,"  responded  Talfrey,  Junior. 

"  I  should  like  to  see  it  more  than  ever,"  said  Mr.  Os- 
tridge.  "  Would  it  be  proper  for  you  to  introduce  me 
there  —  to  buy  a  lemon  —  in  Mr.  Stewart  Frost's  base 
ment?" 

"  Why,  we  all  go.  The  servants  go,  from  all  round,  to 
do  errands  ;  and  we  boys  get  the  j  oiliest  things  that  they 
don't  keep  anywhere  else.  The  Frosts  know  how  to  do 
things,  I  can  tell  you,  father.  Mrs.  Shatoraine  is  up  at 
Lebanon  this  summer,  and  she  sent  'em  some  awfully 
delicious  butternut-and-maple,  and  those  boys  put  it  right 
into  their  stock,  and  sent  for  more.  Why,  father,  they 
just  know  how  to  do  business  !  and  their  father  lets  'em, 
and  anybody  can  go." 

"  Very  well ;  very  interesting,  and  quite  satisfactory," 
replied  Mr.  Ostridge  ;  which  his  son  readily  understood  to 
signify  "that  will  do."  For  there  were  grown  people  at 
the  table  besides  the  family,  and  conversation  was  now 
quietly  reverted  to  them  and  to  topics  that  had  gone  be 
fore.  But  half  an  hour  after  dinner  was  over,  Mr.  Os 
tridge,  sitting  on  the  terrace,  threw  away  the  end  of  his 
cigar,  and  rose  up,  calling  to  "  Tal." 

"  We  '11  look  in  among  those  impressively  intense  small 
groceries,"  he  said. 


HOW   THE   MIDDIES   SET   UP   SHOP.      133 

"  Not  if  you  make  fun,  father,"  said  young  Talfrey, 
stoutly.  "  I  won't  go  with  you,  unless  you  behave  just  as 
if  it  was  men.  There  's  no  make-believe  about  Algie  and 
Sid  ;  and  there  is  n't  anything  to  make  believe  to." 

"  How  could  there  be,  in  people  and  transactions  so 
fiercely  vital  and  on  the  square  ?  Come  along,  Tal,  you 
can  trust  me,  I  think,"  he  added,  in  a  different  tone. 

Talfrey,  Junior,  took  his  father's  hand,  which  he  was 
not  yet  ashamed  to  do,  saying,  "  So  I  can,  father,  now 
you  're  on  the  square  about  it,"  and  they  walked  through 
the  shady  Round,  and  over  the  Brim,  and  down  the  slope, 
together. 

Algernon  and  Sidney  were  busy  in  their  basement 
room,  with  the  area  door  pleasantly  open  toward  the  grass 
plot,  and  the  flagged  walk  between  the  flower  borders  that 
ran  round  the  side  and  rear  of  the  olive-colored  house. 
They  were  taking  fresh  lemons  out  of  their  clean,  soft  pa 
per  wrappings,  in  which,  and  then  in  a  keg  of  sawdust 
from  their  carpentry  shop,  they  had  carefully  repacked 
them  when  the  fruit  had  first  come  home  from  New  York. 
It  was  a  fine  lot  that  Algie  had  found  and  bought  quite 
fortunately  just  before  lemons  had  "  jumped  "  to  the  ex 
tent  of  two  or  three  cents  apiece  in  price.  He  had  given 
twenty-eight  cents  a  dozen  for  them. 

They  heard  footsteps  coming  down  into  the  area,  and 
shadows  presently  darkened  the  doorway.  Mr.  Ostridge 
and  young  Talfrey  stood  there. 

"  My  wife  has  sent  me  for  a  lemon,"  said  the  head  of 
the  truly  grand  firm  —  head  and  shoulders  above  ordinary 
ones,  in  both  position  and  character  —  of  Ostridge,  Cas- 
awarie  and  Company. 

Algernon  Frost  stood  up  from  his  unpacking,  and  laid 
a  couple  of  his  best  specimens,  fresh  from  their  wraps, 
upon  his  counter  —  an  extension -leaf  of  his  mother's 


134  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

dining-table,  put  across  from  the  lowermost  of  the  store 
room  shelves  to  a  stool  placed  opposite.  There  was  nei 
ther  surprise,  nor  fun,  nor  make-believe,  nor  any  assertion 
against  pretense  in  his  manner.  He  was  precisely  and 
thoroughly  and  simply  a  dealer  answering  to  a  call. 

"  There  are  some,  sir,"  he  said,  and  looked  up  at  Mr. 
Ostridge,  waiting. 

"  Why,  these  are  fine  ones,"  said  the  customer.  "  Have 
you  many  more  like  these?  they  are  out  of  market  just 
now,  I  thought." 

"  Yes,  sir.  I  bought  them  three  weeks  ago,  in  New 
York." 

"  Kept  for  a  rise,  eh  ?  " 

"Well,  yes,  partly.  And  partly  to  be  sure  to  sell. 
When  everybody  has  plenty,  sometimes  they  get  left  on 
hand." 

"  And  if  nobody  has  any  at  all.  except  Frost  Brothers, 
they  can  make  a  sharp  corner  in  lemons,"  said  Mr.  Os 
tridge,  laughing. 

"  I  guess  I  don't  believe  in  sharp  corners,"  said  Algie 
Frost. 

"  Only  right-angled  ones,"  suggested  the  gentleman. 

"  Four  to  a  square,"  supplemented  the  boy,  brightly. 

"  How  about  Joseph,  down  there  in  Egypt  ?  was  n't  that 
rather  a  sharp  corner  in  wheat  ?  "  went  on  the  purchaser, 
setting  aside,  in  a  half-absent  way,  some  four  or  five 
lemons  from  the  heap  upon  the  little  counter.  It  was  evi 
dent  the  conversation  had  begun  to  interest  him  more  than 
his  errand. 

Algernon  looked  up  with  consideration  in  his  eyes. 

"  Why,  no  —  I  should  think  not,"  he  said,  after  a  few 
seconds'  pause.  "  He  did  n't  keep  it  out  of  the  way  when 
it  was  wanted.  He  only  saved  up  what  they  might  have 
wasted  while  it  was  plenty  ;  and  then  had  it  all  ready  for 


HOW   THE  MIDDIES   SET   UP  SHOP.       135 

them  when  the  famine  came.  I  should  call  that  right- 
angled  enough." 

"  I  suppose  he  got  his  price.  What  do  you  ask  for 
these  lemons  ?  " 

"  Three  cents  apiece,  sir." 

"Why,  Person  gets  four  cents  for  'skin  and  bones.'" 

"  I  thought  three  cents  was  fair  enough  pay.  I  gave 
twenty-eight  cents  a  dozen.  That  leaves  me  eight  cents 
profit." 

"  And  that 's  a  percentage  ?  "  — 

"  Of  about  twenty-eight,"  answered  Algernon  promptly. 

"  Oh  !  you  've  learned  to  figure  percentages,  then  ?  " 

"  Well,  a  fellow  must,"  returned  Algernon. 

Mr.  Ostridge  laughed.  "  You  might  have  doubled  your 
money,  all  the  same,"  he  said. 

"  I  like  one  rule  all  the  way  through,  and  to  work  it 
out,"  said  the  boy. 

"  So  do  most  people  ;  only  rules  vary,"  returned  the 
banker.  "  The  commonest  one  is  — '  Buy  cheap,  and  sell 
dear  ; '  as  cheap  and  as  dear  as  you  can." 

"  That  ain't  so  much  working  things  out  as  grabbin'  'em 
in,  is  it?  "  asked  the  young  grocer. 

"  You  go  in  for  a  system,  I  see.  Of  the  best  general 
economy.  Well ;  suppose  I  buy  out  your  stock  ?  " 

"  Of  lemons  ?  I  'd  rather  not  sell  them  all  to  one  per 
son,  sir." 

"  Why  ?  I  '11  pay  you  three  and  a  half  cents  apiece  for 
the  lot." 

"  Then  maybe  somebody  else  would  have  to  go  with 
out.  I  'm  trading  for  the  neighborhood.  And  how  do  I 
know  but  you  'd  make  a  corner  ?  "  he  added,  with  a 
twinkle  of  voice  and  eye. 

Again  Mr.  Ostridge  laughed.  "  I  suppose  next  week, 
if  lemons  don't  come  in  meanwhile,  you  '11  ask  four  or  five 


136  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

cents.  Why  should  n't  I  supply  myself,  or  even  corner, 
against  that?  " 

"  No,  I  sha'n't.     They  won't  he  costing  me  any  more." 

"  Are  you  sure  of  that  ?  Where  's  the  interest  of  your 
money  ?  " 

Algernon  laughed.  "  Why,  the  interest  of  one  dollar 
sixty -eight  would  n't  be  much  for  a  week,  I  guess,"  he 
said. 

"  But  suppose  it  had  heen  one  hundred  and  sixty-eight 
thousand  dollars  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Ostridge.  "  We  're  talking 
about  principles  of  business,  you  see." 

"Yes,"  answered  the  boy,  slowly.  "I  see.  I  should 
have  to  calculate,  if  I  ever  came  to  that.  But  maybe  I 
could  find  a  right-angle  to  it  somehow." 

Then  Mr.  Ostridge  bought  five  lemons,  laid  down  a 
quarter,  and  received  ten  cents  in  change ;  said  "  thank 
you,"  and  "  good-afternoon,"  and  walked  away.  Talfrey, 
Junior,  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  a  look  in  his  face  as 
if  he  had  got  something  to  think  of,  followed  his  father. 

"  Talfrey,"  said  Mr.  Ostridge,  as  they  walked  up  the 
hill  into  the  Round,  "  I  should  just  like  to  see  a  genera 
tion  of  boys  like  that  grow  up  in  New  York.  There  would 
be  a  few  things  different  on  Wall  Street,  and  on  Fifth  Ave 
nue,  too,  I  fancy.  Do  you  know  you  boys  have  got  pretty 
much  everything  in  your  own  hands,  after  all  ?  "  he  asked 
his  son,  with  sudden  energy. 

"  Except  what  we  come  into  ready  made,  and  stiffened," 
returned  the  son.  Talfrey  Ostridge  was  fourteen  years 
old ;  and  boys  of  fourteen,  in  these  days  of  electric  lamps 
and  general  tremendous  illumination,  get  keen  sight  of 
things. 

"  Yes  ;  we  boys  mustn't  leave  it  all  for  you  to  do,"  said 
the  honorable  man  of  bills  and  exchanges. 

Frost  Brothers  went  on  selling  six  dozen  lemons,  at 


HOW   THE  MIDDIES  SET   UP  SHOP.      137 

three  cents  apiece.  Every  day  came  some  call  for  them. 
Algernon  turned  them  over  in  the  basket,  wiping  each  one 
carefully,  every  day  or  two  ;  so  they  kept  fair  and  freshly 
yellow  to  the  end.  Meanwhile,  the  next  week,  Porson 
had  in  a  new  lot ;  average  good ;  he  asked  five  cents 
apiece  for  them. 

Mr.  Ostridge,  coming  up  from  the  train  one  afternoon, 
found  himself,  as  different  people  overtook  or  passed  each 
other  by,  alongside  Algie  Frost. 

"  Ah,  Frost,"  he  said,  "  I  'm  glad  to  see  you.  What 's 
high  for  lemons,  to-day  ?  " 

"  Same  price,  with  me,  sir." 

"  Porson  says  you  're  underselling.  I  told  him  what  we 
were  paying  you.  He  thinks  you  ought  to  stand  by  the 
trade." 

"  If  I  'd  bought  this  week,  I  suppose  I  should  have  had 
to.  It  is  n't  my  fault  if  I  can  afford  to  ask  less.  Those 
things  always  happen  by  chances,  don't  they  ?  The  ad 
vertisements  are  full  of  'em,  anyway." 

"  Have  you  read  up  that  story  of  Joseph  again,  yet  ? 
Do  you  know  what  price  he  put  upon  wheat  in  the  famine  ? 
It  must  have  been  something  to  suit  Pharaoh,  and  the 
Egyptian  Treasury,  we  must  suppose." 

"  Yes,  I  did  read  it,"  said  the  boy.  "  I  thought  I 
should  like  to  see  what  it  said.  And  there  is  n't  a  word 
of  the  price  anywhere.  Only,  that  Joseph  opened  all  the 
storehouses,  and  sold  to  all  the  people  of  the  land  what 
they  wanted ;  and  that  all  the  countries  round  came  to  Jo 
seph  to  buy  corn.  And  they  could  n't  all  have  been  rich, 
you  know.  Besides,"  he  added,  gently,  "  Pharaoh  could  n't 
have  been  a  bad  sort,  that  only  wanted  to  grind  out  money 
from  the  people ;  for  what  he  said,  first  of  all,  about  get 
ting  a  man  to  take  care  of  things,  was,  '  Can  we  find  a 
man  in  whom  the  spirit  of  God  is  ?  '  It  ain't  exactly  the 


138  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

way  they  look  up  men  nowadays  —  for  the  rings  and  cor 
ners,  is  it?  " 

And  Algernon  flashed  up  one  of  his  quick  looks  to  Mr. 
Ostridge's  face. 

Mr.  Ostridge  did  not  answer.  But  the  boy  met  noth 
ing  to  deter  his  simple  freedom.  "  So  I  conclude  that  the 
Bible  corners  were  a  little  different,"  he  ended. 

Mr.  Ostridge's  head  went  up  a  little  way  into  the  air, 
and  he  took  a  slightly  lengthened  breath,  as  of  interroga 
tion.  "  There  are  some  other  Bible  corners  you  might 
run  against,  that  might  not  argue  precisely  the  same,"  he 
said.  "  Some  people  seem  to  have  learned  from  further 
back  than  Joseph." 

"  Maybe  some  corners  are  put  there  to  show  us  the  ways 
not  to  turn,"  said  Algernon. 

"Are  you  going  to  be  a  grocer,  or  a  minister?  "  asked 
his  friend,  laughing  out.  But  there  was  a  kind  of  shin 
ing  sympathy  in  the  generous  eyes  that,  in  turn,  looked 
down  upon  the  lad. 

"  There  is  n't  so  much  difference  between  the  two,  if 
they  're  both  first-rate  of  the  sort,  is  there  ?  "  questioned 
the  solemn-earnest  shopkeeper. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  that  oldest  boy  of 
yours  ?  "  the  banker  asked  Mr.  Frost,  walking  down  the 
ferry  platform  beside  him  the  next  day,  from  the  morn 
ing  train  to  New  York. 

"  I  think  I  shall  let  him  do  something  with  himself, 
first ;  and  then  help  him,  if  I  can." 

"  Send  him  to  me,  six  years  hence,  if  he  wants  a  chance, 
and  I  'm  left  to  give  it.  I  '11  find  him  a  place,  if  there  's 
one  for  anybody,  and  he  likes  it." 

But  Algernon  sold  the  last  of  his  lemons  at  three  cents, 
and  never  knew  that  the  chief  of  Ostridge,  Casawarie  & 
Co.  had  said  a  word  to  his  father  about  him. 


HOW  THE  MIDDIES  SET   UP  SHOP.      139 


VI. 

Joe  Rabin  was  the  apothecary's  son.  He  had  learned 
the  knack  from  Hurse,  his  father's  assistant,  of  tying  up 
little  parcels  neatly,  and  of  cleverly  twisting  the  cord  into 
the  "  trade-knot."  He  had  also  got  the  impression  that  a 
bottle,  a  box,  one  of  these  knotted  parcels  —  above  all  a 
label  —  made  instantly  the  difference  of  a  hundred  to  five 
hundred  per  cent  value  in  the  article  so  bottled,  boxed, 
tied,  or  labeled.  "  Putting  up  "  —  not  the  prescriptions 
or  stuffs  themselves  —  was  the  essential  part  of  the  busi 
ness. 

"  There  's  where  the  money  is,"  he  confided  to  Algie 
Frost.  u  I  've  seen  Hurse  take  in  a  half  a  dollar  for  a 
bottle  of  lime  water.  Did  n't  cost  eight  cents  —  bottle, 
cork,  and  all.  And  once,  when  he  made  a  mistake  chang 
ing  a  bill,  and  took  seventy-five  cents  when  he  meant  to 
charge  a  dollar  and  seventy-five,  he  said,  '  Well,  it  might 
'a'  been  worse.  Made  fifteen  cents  on  it,  anyhow !  ' ' 

"  I  don't  call  that  business,"  replied  Algie. 

''  I  'd  just  like  you  to  say  what  you  do  call  it,  then  !  " 
retorted  Joe. 

u  I  don't  know  as  there  's  any  name  for  it,"  Algernon 
answered,  quietly. 

"  Look  a-here !  "  cried  Joe,  using  privilege  and  going 
round  behind  the  counter.  "  Why  don't  you  put  up  this 
butternut-maple  ?  I  can  get  pill-boxes  for  nothing  — 
'most,"  he  added,  prudently.  "  I  c'd  let  you  have  'em — • 
seein'  it 's  you  —  for  four  cents  a  dozen  ;  that 's  only  a 
third  of  a  cent  apiece ;  an'  you  c'd  sell  the  stuff  three 
cents  a  box,  easy." 

"  Pill-boxes  !  "  ejaculated  Sidney,  with  a  laugh.  "  The' 
ain't  much  appetite  in  a  pill-box  !  ' 


140  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

"Well,  powder-boxes,  then;  slidin'  ones;  pink,  and 
blue,  and  lavender,  and  straw  color.  I  tell  you  they  'd 
go.  And  hold  more.  Could  ask  five  cents  f 'r  'em,  even 
change  !  I  '11  help  you  put  up.  Say  so  ?  " 

Joe  Rabin  had  been  round  behind  the  counter  more 
than  ever,  and  more  full  than  ever  of  suggestions,  since 
the  tin  can  of  sugar-and-butternuts  had  come  from  Leb 
anon.  Algie  managed  to  keep  a  friendly  nearness  to 
him,  however  ;  and  all  Joe  could  do  was  to  circulate,  with 
the  sublimest  forbearance,  around  the  can,  his  eyes  keep 
ing  a  radius-line  with  the  central  attraction,  a  warm  moist 
ure  about  his  lips,  and  his  hands,  with  the  most  obvious 
virtue,  in  his  pockets. 

"  It  keeps  better  where  it  is,"  said  Algernon.  "  Guess 
you  'd  better  move  out  now ;  I  Ve  got  these  bundles  to 
sort." 

"  Lemme  help,"  said  the  devoted  Joe. 

"  Well,  if  you  're  achin'  to,  there  's  that  twine  out  there 
to  be  weaver-knotted  and  rolled  up.  Keep  the  sizes  sepa 
rate,  that 's  all."  He  motioned  to  a  big  crash  pocket  that 
Sidney  had  left  upon  the  doorstep  when  Madge  had  called 
him  away  just  now,  for  a  "  very  particular  thing  indeed  ;  " 
Madge  and  Bobby  being  in  the  middle  of  a  pack,  to  go 
away  for  a  holiday  visit  at  Aunt  Frost's  in  Norchester. 

"  Not  much  fun  in  that,"  said  Joe,  cloudily,  and  leaning 
back  upon  his  elbows  across  the  counter-edge  out  of  Algie's 
way,  with  his  hands  still  in  his  pockets.  "  Sid  '11  be  back 
presently." 

'•  There  is  n't  room  in  here  just  now  for  more  than  one," 
said  Algernon,  plainly. 

At  that,  Joe  Rabin  put  his  hands  on  the  counter  behind 
him,  lifted  himself  to  a  seat  upon  the  same,  and  whirled 
himself  around  as  upon  a  pivot,  till  his  legs  were  on  the 
other  side. 


HOW   THE  MIDDIES  SET   UP  SHOP.      141 

"  Need  n't  be  so  frost-y  about  it,"  he  remarked,  leisurely, 
remaining  as  he  was  for  a  half-minute. 

"  That  counter  won't  stand  much  of  that  style  of  jump 
ing,"  said  Algernon.  "  Be  careful,  won't  you?  " 

Some  glass  jars,  one  holding  Salem  Gibraltars,  bought 
and  sent  to  the  boys'  order  by  cousin  Kitty  Frost,  who 
fortunately  lived  in  the  city  famed  for  these  and  for  old 
East  -  India  -  nabob  families,  were  upon  the  walnut  leaf 
which  had  slipped  startlingly  at  the  stool  end,  with  Joe's 
movements. 

Joe  got  down  upon  the  customers'  side. 

"  I  was  goin'  to  invest  a  few  in  butts,"  he  said,  care 
lessly  ;  "  but  you  're  so  busy,  I  '11  call  again,  p'raps."  He 
rattled  some  pennies  in  the  pockets  where  he  had  got  his 
hands  again,  and  sauntered  to  the  door. 

"  All  right,"  said  Algie,  from  down  behind.  "  If  you  're 
in  no  hurry,  I  ain't."  At  which  Joe  sauntered  back 
again.  • 

"  Are  them  real  Salems  ?  "  he  inquired,  lifting  the  glass 
cover  of  a  Mason  jar. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Algie,  rising  to  the  question,  and  tak 
ing  the  cover  from  Joe.  "  Two  for  five  cents." 

"  Tuck  it  onter  them,  don't  yer  ?  " 

"  Have  to.  Special  article.  Comes  higher  than  the 
common,  and  there 's  postage.  Cent  an  ounce,  you 
know." 

Meanwhile,  Joe  had  helped  himself  to  one  and  taken  a 
bite.  "  They  're  good,  if  they  are  dear,"  he  said,  suavely, 
with  a  second  crunch  at  the  toothsome  confection,  and 
making  as  if  he  would  so  depart.  "  I  '11  take  another  next 
time,  and  pay  then." 

"  I  don't  sell  that  way.  Three  cents  apiece,  Mr.  Rabin, 
if  you  please,  and  cash  down." 

Joe  laughed,  as  if  they  both  knew  better  in  this  shop 


142  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

play  ;  but  catching  Algernon's  eye,  perceived  so  plainly 
what  was  meant,  that  he  drew  a  nickel  from  his  pocket. 
"  Down  it  is,  then,"  he  said,  gruffly,  flinging  the  coin  upon 
the  board  with  energy.  "  Give  us  another." 

Algernon  complied,  as  matter  of  course,  and  drew  the 
money  over  into  his  till  —  a  lock-box,  set  under  the  leaf 
with  cleats  and  slides.  "Anything  more  this  morning  ?  " 
he  asked,  civilly. 

"  Confound  it,  no  !  You  're  too  shopkeepery  a  fellow 
for  me,  Al.  Makes  no  difference  whether  you  know  a 
feller  or  not." 

"  Oh  yes,  it  does,"  said  Algernon,  with  his  peculiar 
quietness.  But  at  last  Joe  Rabin  had  got  out  the  door. 

No  danger  but  he  would  come  back  again.  Joe  could 
not  take  offense  —  were  it  thrust  at  him  —  so  long  as  the 
goodies  lasted.  Besides  being  constitutionally  of  a  lym 
phatic  good  nature,  he  purred,  like  a  cat,  so  much  more 
for  the  sake  of  comforts  than  of  company,  that  even  when 
roused  to  something  like  resentment  or  retort,  he  always 
finished  his  roughest  sentence  with  the  familiar  and  con 
doning  nickname.  He  plunged  into  no  deep  water  without 
a  rope  round  his  waist  that  he  could  pull  back  by. 

Algernon  had  begun  by  giving  him  privileges  ;  even  by 
occasionally  standing  treat.  But  he  had  got  very  tired  — 
and  something  a  little  more  uncomfortable  than  tired  — 
with  the  loitering,  hankering,  soft-mouthed  way  in  which 
Joe  Rabin  infested  his  business  premises.  It  bound  him 
to  his  charge  inconveniently  at  times.  He  would  not,  for 
a  good  deal,  put  mistrust  and  stinginess  into  Sidney's  mind 
toward  the  boy ;  but  he  knew  very  well  that  his  little 
brother's  shrewdness  and  decision  were  not  of  a  sort  to 
stand  against  Joe's  patient  and  wily  parallels  and  ap 
proaches.  When  the  elder  partner  was  absent  from  the 
shop,  Joe  could  get  many  a  little  overweight  or  overcount, 


HOW  THE  MIDDIES  SET   UP  SHOP.      143 

or  gratuitous  nibble,  with  a  "you  know  me,"  out  of  Sid 
ney's  mistaken  politeness  or  the  shamefacedness  that  the 
child  took  on  vicariously  ;  seeing  that  the  big  fellow  had 
none  of  it. 

Of  late,  the  uncomfortableness  had  become  with  Alger 
non  a  positive  doubt  and  apprehension.  There  had  been 
a  deep  pinch  once  or  twice  in  the  butternut  can,  and  a 
crumbing  on  the  floor  beside  it,  that  he  knew  he  had  him 
self  never  made.  His  money  counted  ten  cents  short  one 
night  when  he  had  let  Joe  Rabin  serve  a  purchaser  ;  and 
he  missed  the  very  dime  that  he  knew  Rob  Casawarie  had 
paid  in  for  "  Salems."  Even  more  than  all  this,  the 
trickiness  in  Joe's  talk,  and  the  mean,  hankering  way  he 
had  in  the  neighborhood  of  creature  -  comforts,  grew  in 
their  repulsion  upon  him,  as  they  showed  more  constantly 
and  plainly.  He  hated  them  on  his  own  part,  and  shrunk 
from  their  contagious  demoralization  on  the  part  of  Sid. 
"  If  he  should  ever  make  Sid  pilfer  from  the  stock  ! ;'  he 
thought  with  horror.  He  would  rather  throw  up  the 
whole  concern,  and  divide  the  tempting  commodities,  once 
for  all ;  give  up  Frost  Brothers,  and  go  back  into  Middy 
child-life  again,  than  to  have  that  happen ! 

The  worst  of  it  all  was  that  it  set  him  to  watching  Sid. 
He  caught  himself  at  it  once  and  again,  in  little  ways ;  and 
oh !  how  he  clutched  and  shook  himself  mentally,  when 
he  suddenly  realized  it.  He  felt  himself  then  altogether 
the  meanest  of  the  three.  Joe  might  be  innocent ;  he 
might  be  even  resisting  great  temptations  in  the  very 
mouth-waterings  which  were  so  evident,  and  which  made 
Algernon  so  doubt  and  despise  him.  And  Sidney  was  a 
little  boy  ;  he  must  remember  that ;  two  years,  at  the  age 
when  a  boy  makes  his  first  spring  toward  manhood,  are 
such  a  difference  !  Sidney  did  not  notice  all  that  he  him 
self  could  not  help  noticing.  He  had,  too,  an  innocent 


144  HOMESPUN  YARNS. 

little  sweet  tooth  of  his  own,  which  had  always  been  less 
with  Algernon,  and  which  Algernon  was  fast  outgrowing. 
Every  afternoon,  the  elder  partner  allowed  and  provided 
for  this,  by  giving  Sidney,  and  partaking  himself,  of  a 
certain  prescribed  quantity  of  the  Shaker  dainty  ;  making 
scrupulous  distinction  between  this  item  of  their  stock  in 
trade,  which  had  cost  them  nothing,  but  had  been  a  gift 
for  their  pleasure,  and  the  articles  which  had  really  been 
money  investments  and  represented  a  portion  of  their 
capital.  Of  these,  it  was  clearly  understood  that  neither 
should  ever  take  without  paying. 

Algernon  was  learning  to  keep  some  small  business 
books  properly,  under  his  father's  criticism  and  direction 
in  the  evenings.  There  was  added  motive  of  pride  for 
him  in  this,  had  he  needed  any  ;  he  had  such  strong  satis 
faction  in  his  little  weekly  balance-sheet,  upon  which  pur 
chases,  sales,  and  account  of  stock  on  hand,  came  each 
with  its  due  and  clean  fitting-in,  to  the  fair  and  accurate 
footing  up  in  identical  figures  011  the  debit  and  the  credit 
sides.  He  liked  his  father  to  say,  as  he  did  once  or  twice. 
"  That 's  business-like  ;  that  isn't  like  boy's  play." 

One  afternoon,  late  in  the  season,  it  befell  that  the 
senior  partner  of  our  firm  was  drafted  away  by  his  mother 
and  Ethelind  to  drive  them  a  distance  of  three  or  four 
miles  for  a  friendly  call.  He  had  to  leave  Sidney  in  sole 
charge. 

"  I  would  n't  let  anybody  in  to  look  round,  Sid,"  he 
said  to  him  in  giving  instructions.  "  Don't  make  talk,  or 
take  anybody  in  behind.  Just  attend  to  errands,  and 
stop  there." 

"  I  can't  tell  'em  to  go,"  pleaded  Sid,  perplexed.  "  It 
might  be  Mr.  Ostridge,  or  Talfrey,  or  Rob  Casawarie  ; 
and  you  always  talk  to  them,  you  know." 

"  If  they  begin  it,  yes  ;  and  you  may ;  but  —  well,  I 


HOW   THE  MIDDIES  SET   UP  SHOP.      145 

can't  explain  the  difference ;  they  don't  loaf ;  only  just 
make  up  your  mind  there  sha'n't  be  any  loafing,  and  feel 
your  way  to  steer  clear  of  it.  Takes  two  to  make  out 
most  anything,  let  alone  quarreling ;  and  it 's  a  good 
thing  to  learn  how  to  keep  out  of  what  you  don't  want. 
If  you  can't  do  anything  else,  you  can  lock  the  door  and 
sit  up  in  the  porch  and  make  paper  bags.  That  won't 
interest  a  loafer  much,  and  we  want  some." 

The  increase  of  business  had  for  some  time  prevented 
any  accumulation  of  surplus  wrapping-paper  ;  with  paste- 
pot  and  scissors  and  a  strip  of  shingle  to  fold  over,  this 
was  handily  turned  into  the  aforesaid  bags  for  their  own 
use. 

"  Well,"  answered  Sidney,  somewhat  slowly  ;  "  only  it 
don't  interest  me  a  great  deal,  either;  not  as  much  as 
'  Carrots,'  anyhow." 

"  Well,  read  '  Carrots  '  then ;  that  '11  do  as  well,  or 
better.  Only  keep  an  eye  for  real  customers ;  and  — 
don't  be  lonesome,  old  boy  !  " 

The  pat  on  the  shoulder  with  which  Algie  left  him 
had  no  less  loving  compunction  of  the  elder  brother  in  it, 
for  his  not  being  able  to  feel  quite  so  certain  of  everything 
in  Sid's  care  as  in  his  own,  than  for  leaving  him  alone 
this  bright  afternoon  with  only  shopkeeping  and  "  Car 
rots  "  to  amuse  him ;  which  he  was  truly  very  reluctant 
to  do,  notwithstanding  Sid  had  had  his  choice  as  to  shut 
ting  up  shop  and  accompanying  them. 

It  must  be  owned,  however,  that  the  overtaking  of  Joe 
Rabin  on  the  Valley  Road,  with  bat  on  shoulder,  on  his 
way  to  the  base-ball  ground  at  Pixley  Pasture  was  a  sud 
den  lightening  to  his  spirits  ;  insomuch,  that,  with  a  hasty 
pantomime  to  his  mother,  he  pulled  rein. 

"  Have  a  ride,  Joe  ?  " 

"  Oh,  guess  not.     's  lieves  walk.      Where  goin'  ?  " 
10 


146  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

"  Over  to  Pine  Orchards.     Right  past  your  turn." 

A  rapid  consideration  swept  its  expression  across  Joe's 
face. 

"  Well,  then,"  he  said,  as  he  caught  hold  of  the  dasher- 
frame,  sprung  up,  lowered  his  bat,  slid  into  the  vacant 
place  hy  Algernon,  and  had  the  furtive  grace  to  give  a 
sidewise  lift  to  his  cap  to  the  ladies  upon  the  back  seat. 
"  Might  as  well  save  wind,  I  suppose." 

"  Who  plays  to-day  ?  "  asked  Algernon,  not  without  a 
certain  genial  air  of  comfortable  position  as  he  held  the 
clean  russet  lines  in  one  hand,  and  lightly  flicked  the 
horse's  haunches  with  the  whip  in  the  other. 

"  Oh !  not  any  of  the  regular  nines.  But  there  's  sure 
to  be  a  game  of  scrub,  and  some  good  practice.  Unless 
that  cloud  means  a  shower,"  he  added,  nodding  westward 
where  a  pile  of  beautiful  cumuli  gave  the  gentle  Jersey 
landscape  a  suggestion  of  far-off  mountain  grandeur. 

"  Oh  !  do  you  think  so  ?  "  came  Mrs.  Laura's  voice 
from  behind.  Now,  Mrs.  Laura,  sensible  woman  that 
she  was  in  other  things,  had  a  distinct  objection  to  thun 
der-clouds,  and  a  slight  wavering  of  mind  in  regard  to 
horses. 

"  Oh,  no,  not  yet  awhile,"  answered  Joe.  "  Looks  more 
like  going  round  north,  too."  He  spoke  partly  man- 
fashion,  as  he  had  heard  men  answer  the  timidities  of 
women,  and  as  it  suddenly  felt  fine  to  do,  and  partly  in 
result  of  that  same  consideration,  which  might  have  been 
observed,  had  his  companions  been  studying  him  as  we 
are,  to  have  flickered  more  than  once  across  his  forehead, 
and  to  have  settled  into  a  kind  of  half  absentness  in  his 
eyes. 

"  Don't  borrow  any  '  lightning  or  tempest,'  mamma,  or 
any  of  the  rest  of  the  tribulations,"  quoth  light-hearted 
Master  Algie,  now  thoroughly  enjoying  his  command  and 


HOW  THE  MIDDIES  SET   UP  SHOP.      147 

his  prospect  for  the  afternoon.  His  mind's  eye  swiftly 
glanced  toward  Sidney  again,  and  beheld  him  quite  cosy 
and  happy,  with  his  charming  English  story,  in  the  sunny- 
shady  hack  stoop,  and  with  Celia,  prohably,  for  neighbor 
ing  company,  at  her  window  above.  He  gave  his  horse 
another  touch  with  the  tasseled  lash. 

"  Oh,  don't  hurry,  Algie,  I  did  n't  mean  that,"  said 
mamma  Laura,  hastily. 

"  I  never  imagined  you  did,  mamma.  You  're  never 
in  a  hurry  behind  a  horse.  Between  a  horse  and  a  thun 
der-storm,  you  'd  stand  stockstill."  Algernon  laughed  in 
the  uplifted  gayety  of  his  heart. 

"  Hullo  !  here  we  are.  Much  obliged,"  said  Joe  Rabin, 
the  next  minute,  springing  out  upon  the  ground  as  Algie 
halted,  and  waving  a  salute  with  his  bat.  And  they  drove 
on,  leaving  him  standing  there  at  Tulick's  Corner.  Pres 
ently  they  passed  a  market  gardener's  wagon,  bound  in 
to  Broadtop  from  the  Orchards. 

If  Algernon  could  have  seen  Joe  Rabin  stand  still, 
waiting  there  ;  then  heard  him  hail  the  gardener's  team, 
calling  out,  "  Give  us  a  ride,  will  yer  ?  "  if  he  had  seen 
him  jump  to  the  wagon-front  as  the  man  good-naturedly 
pulled  up  ;  if  he  had  heard  him  say,  in  answer  to  the  in 
quiry  about  a  ball-match —  "  No,  't  is  n't  a  field  day,  and 
I  guess  I  '11  go  home  ; "  if  he  had  known  that  ten  min 
utes  afterward  he  was  tossing  his  bat  over  his  father's 
fence  and  starting  to  make  the  best  of  his  way  up  the 
Slope  to  the  olive-green  house  —  well,  I  believe  he,  too, 
would  have  been  tempted  to  prophesy  a  shower,  and  to 
advise  Mrs.  Laura  urgently  to  let  him  turn  the  horse  and 
get  safe  home  before  it  should  roll  up. 


148  HOMESPUN  YARNS. 

VII. 

Now  I  do  not  suppose  Joe  Rabin  started  for  Frost  Broth 
ers'  with  deliberate  intent  of  doing  what  he  did  do  after 
ward  ;  I  think  he  only  remembered  that  Sidney  would  be 
left  alone  in  charge,  and  it  occurred  to  him  that  it  would 
be  a  favorable  time  for  a  visit.  I  do  not  suppose  half  the 
blamable  things  Joe,  or  anybody  else,  does,  are  to  be  re 
ferred  to  an  intention  beforehand  of  the  full  wrong-doing. 
But  I  know  that  Joe,  and  a  good  many  of  us,  turn  at  the 
wrong  finger-post  at  many  a  corner  of  our  lives,  and  that 
if  the  evil  to  which  we  so  deliver  ourselves  does  not  beguile 
or  urge  us  over  any  fatal  brink,  it  is  not  from  any  Tightness 
or  strength  or  wisdom  in  ourselves,  but  from  a  preventing 
Goodness  that  saves  us  from  a  further  chance  and  choice. 

There  is  also,  it  certainly  seems,  a  preventing  power  in 
the  Evil  —  whether  we  put  it  outside  of  ourselves  as  a 
personality,  and  spell  it  with  a  capital  letter  or  not.  For 
to  "  prevent"  mea.ns  to  "  go  before,"  and  something  does 
surely  often  go  before,  and  prepare  the  way,  in  a  line  of 
opportunity  and  temptation,  for  any  who  once  give  them 
selves  by  a  first  wrong  to  such  a  leading.  When  Joe 
Rabin  sauntered  into  the  Frosts'  back-yard,  and  presented 
himself  with  his  usual  happened-in-on-privilege  air  at  the 
little  area  door,  something  that  he  saw  quite  altered  and 
extended,  in  his  favor  as  he  thought,  the  circumstances  on 
which  he  had  counted.  Sidney,  tired  with  the  warm  af 
ternoon  and  with  lonely  waiting,  and  having  read  himself 
into  the  sort  of  quietness  that  was  apt  to  overtake  him  now 
and  then  since  his  long  illness,  had  let  his  book  slip  from 
his  hands,  dropped  himself  back  in  the  low  corner  seat  be 
hind  the  counter,  and  was  in  the  dead  middle  of  a  summer 
afternoon  nap ;  the  more  heavy,  doubtless,  from  the  atmos 
pheric  heaviness  that  precedes  a  summer  shower. 


HOW   THE  MIDDIES  SET   UP  SHOP.      149 

"  Guess  I  'm  boss  this  time,"  quoth  Joe,  inwardly.  But 
he  did  not  dare  to  whisper  it  in  words,  or  even  to  chuckle 
in  a  whisper  over  it.  In  fact,  he  did  not  know,  just  at 
first,  what  advantage  he  would  conclude  to  take  from  it. 
He  could  look  round  a  bit,  at  any  rate.  But  what  made 
him  slip  off  his  easy  old  half-boots,  and  go  in  stocking-footed 
across  the  floor,  and  behind  the  leaf  ?  If  they  had  not 
been  those  easy  old  shoes,  and  if  he  could  not  so  readily 
have  stepped  into  them  again  before  Sid  could  fairly  rub 
his  eyes  open,  he  would  hardly  have  done  it.  He  carried 
them  in  his  hand  to  the  counter-opening,  and  laid  them 
down  noiselessly  just  outside.  Then  he  changed  his  mind, 
picked  them  up,  and  took  them  into  the  sanctum  with  him, 
keeping  them  in  his  hand. 

"  Wonder  if  they  've  sold  much  of  their  but'nut  ?  "  he 
put  to  himself,  still  in  the  same  silent  way,  as  a  question. 
There  is  as  much  preliminary  and  pretext  with  itself  in  a 
mind  yielding  to  a  gradual  temptation,  as  there  ever  has 
to  be  between  it  and  another,  to  cover  with  an  innocent 
and  plausible  air  the  step  by  step  of  intent  or  drift. 

Without  a  word  Joe  went  through  the  mental  process 
of  a  cautious  conversation,  at  any  point  of  which,  should 
Sidney  wake,  he  might  be  prepared  to  speak  out  the  re 
mark  of  the  moment,  and  give  color  to  his  proceedings. 

"  Funny  way  to  tend  store,"  he  went  on.  "  Might  help 
myself,  and  leave  my  money  on  the  counter." 

He  stopped  there,  to  quietly  put  on  his  shoes  first ;  then 
he  lifted  and  carefully  laid  off  the  cover  of  the  tin  can. 

Certainly  the  contents  were  most  tempting.  The  rich, 
loose,  moist,  crumbly  sugar,  with  the  true  maple  depth  of 
color,  filling  more  than  three-fourths  of  the  tall  canister  — 
the  thin,  curly,  veined  and  shaded  butternut-meats  showing 
their  tips  and  flakes  generously  through  the  mass ;  the 
quantity,  from  which  a  few  mouthfuls  could  scarcely  ever 


150  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

be  missed ;  these  were  the  conditions  and  allurements  in 
which  poor  little  greedy-mouthed  Joe  Rabin  found  himself, 
as  he  thought,  "  boss  "  of  the  situation.  He  was  anything 
but  that,  miserable  little  sinner  ! 

He  did  not  even  try  his  pockets  for  that  money  which 
should  pay  for  the  "  helping  of  himself."  He  was  careful 
not  to  do  that,  for  he  knew  he  could  not  keep  up  the  fiction 
to  himself  if  he  did.  Does  this  seem  an  impossible  self- 
lie  ?  Why,  he  did  not  look  at  the  lie,  any  more  than  he 
felt  in  his  pockets,  lest  he  should  find  out  the  emptiness 
that  he  knew  all  the  while  was  in  it. 

But  he  dipped  into  the  sugar.  Pay,  or  any  other  con 
sequences,  outward  or  moral,  might  come  after.  The  roar 
ing  Evil  that  was  helping  itself  in  him  knew  well  enough 
now  that  it  had  got  him. 

And  so  Joe  Rabin  first  nibbled,  picked  here  and  there, 
keeping  a  careful  level,  and  then  ate  on  and  on,  as  a  boy 
can  of  butternut-and-maple,  until  he  suddenly  realized  that 
a  new  moist  line,  indicating  the  recent  level  before  he  had 
begun,  was  traceable  around  the  tin  full  half  an  inch  above 
what  yet  remained. 

That  stopped  him.  He  would  fain  have  put  some  in  his 
pockets ;  his  conversation  with  himself  had  gone  deeper 
down  and  hushed  itself  more  in  the  depths  by  this  time, 
and  had  become  a  mere  wonder  as  to  how  much  anybody 
else  —  not  he,  Joe  Rabin,  who  was  supposed  to  be  safe  out 
at  Pixley  Pasture,  and  a  shower  growling  and  darkening 
up,  too,  that  might  easily  keep  folks  in  the  nearest  shelter 
a  long  time  yet  —  might  naturally  be  believed  to  have 
eaten,  if  it  was  noticed ;  and  this  query  got  no  margin  of 
answer  that  would  include  a  future  supply. 

He  pulled  off  his  shoes  again,  and  got  up.  The  growl 
of  the  coming  shower  might  be  a  flash  and  a  clap  at  any 
minute ;  and  that  would  wake  Sidney.  Thus  far,  the 


HOW  THE  MIDDIES  SET   UP  SHOP.      151 

darkness  had  been  like  a  night-soothing-,  and  a  cover  also 
for  the  small  deed  of  darkness. 

As  Joe  lifted  himself  to   his   feet,  somewhat  cramped 
with  his  long  crouching,  the  shine  of  the  glass  Mason  jars 
caught  his  eyes,  and  again  his  opportunity  overcame  him. 
"  Might  as  well  be  caught  for  an  old  sheep  as  for  a  lamb," 
he  quoted  ;  the  inward  talk  had  grown  less  compromising 
now  ;  "  can  pay  up  any  time  ;  "  a  bold  defiance  to  what  he 
knew  his  bad  purpose  of  escape  to  be  ;  "  and  —  thunder  ! 
what  a  fool  I  am  ;  Sid  might  sell  no  end  and  pocket  the 
money  ;  or  anybody  might  come  in  while  he  was  asleep  !  " 
With  this  last  curious  thought-action,  which  detached  him 
self  altogether  from  the  "  anybody,"  and  from  the  whole 
scrape,  Joe,  having  already  lifted  the  light  cover,  grasped 
the  "  Salem"  jar  with  one  hand,  hastily  plunged  its  mouth 
into  the  top  of  one   of  his   half-boots,   and   so   inverted, 
emptied  it  into  the  singular  receptacle  of  half  its  contents. 
Then,  with  a  sudden  panic,  not  daring  to  return  to  the  tin 
can,  as  a  vivid  stream  of  lightning  quivered  out  of  the 
gloomy  sky  beyond  the  open  doorway,  and  a  peal  began 
that  seemed,  even  to  him,  something  awful  in  its  immediate 
echo  of  his  own  words  —  he  ran  noiselessly  from  the  place, 
not  stopping  to  unload  his  booty  or  to  reboot  his  feet,  until 
he  turned  the  corner  and  could  sit  down  under  the  outer 
wall.    And  here  he  recollected  that  he  had  replaced  neither 
cover  —  of  can  or  jar  —  in  his  hurry.     Never  mind  ;  it 
was  Sid's  lookout ;  it  would  n't  be  tracked  to  him,  out  at 
Pixley  Pasture  ;  and  the  storm  would  bewilder  recollection 
and   account   for  almost   anything  —  except  the   missing 
goods. 

Innocent  little  Sid  started  up,  bewildered  indeed  with 
that  crash  of  thunder.  He  was  afraid  in  a  storm,  and 
when  alone  could  not  deny  it  to  himself.  When  with  Al 
gernon,  he  borrowed  courage  ;  really  received  it,  as  we  do 


152  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

receive  a  virtue  we  admire  and  emulate.  But  now  he  just 
jumped  and  ran  for  dear  life,  to  find  companionship  and 
heartening  within  the  house.  At  the  shop  entrance,  even 
in  his  flight,  he  recollected.  Faithful  as  Casablanca,  he 
paused  under  the  very  glittering  of  another  of  those  blazes 
across  the  clouds,  and  while  trembling  through  the  rat 
tling  reverberation  that  followed,  shut  the  door,  turned  the 
big  key  that  under  the  circumstances  he  was  mortally 
afraid  of,  and  with  a  swift  valor  bore  it  with  him  in  through 
the  kitchen  and  up-stairs  to  his  and  Algie's  sleeping-room, 
where  he  flung  it  far  from  him  upon  Algie's  bed,  and  then 
turned  toward  the  sisters'  apartment  to  find  Celia. 

Somebody,  hurrying  up  the  Hill  street  over  the  Slope, 
caught  a  strange  glimpse  of  a  boy  under  Mr.  Frost's 
corner  wall  pulling  a  handful  of  some  stuff  in  red  and  white 
from  an  old  boot  and  transferring  it  to  his  pocket,  after 
which  he  put  the  boot  to  its  proper  use  and  place  with  some 
precipitation,  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  was  down  the  hill 
through  the  great,  scattering  bullets  of  the  rain  like  one 
possessed,  but  perhaps  only  with  the  inclination  to  get  safe 
home  out  of  a  pelting  shower. 

"  Queer  !  "  thought  Mr.  Talfrey  Ostridge  to  himself,  as 
he  kept  on  up  the  opposite  sidewalk  under  his  umbrella. 
"  Might  have  been  one  of  these  sanguinary  -  bordered 
pocket  handkerchiefs.  But  what  the  boy  should  dust  out 
his  shoes  for,  with  this  coming  on  "  — 

At  this  moment  a  great  gust  caught  the  umbrella  and 
its  holder,  swirled  them  fiercely  and  helplessly  round, 
turned  the  former  inside  out,  and  drove  real  bullets  of 
sudden  hail  against  the  gentleman's  broad  back  and  broad 
cloth.  A  terrible  glare  of  lightning  and  an  instant  tear 
ing  avalanche  of  thunder  came  almost  simultaneously ; 
and  in  the  struggle  with  the  elements  through  which  Mr. 
Ostridge  gained  the  Brim  and  his  own  dwelling,  the 


HOW   THE  MIDDIES  SET   UP  SHOP.      153 

smaller  incident  of  the  boy  and  his  boot  was  temporarily 
swept  from  his  recollection. 


VIII. 

Mrs.  Frost  and  Ethelind,  with  Algie,  were  kept  at  the 
Pine  Orchards  by  the  storm  until  quite  after  dark.  Sid 
ney  had  had  his  supper  with  Celia,  and  they  were  playing 
Logomachy,  when  Algie,  pretty  well  tired,  came  back 
from  returning  his  "  team  "  to  the  stable.  He  was  not 
hungry  ;  they  had  all  had  a  fine  tea  at  the  Orchards ;  so 
he  took  his  little  safety-lamp  from  the  pantry  and  lit  it, 
to  go  and  give  a  look  to  the  shop  for  the  night,  and  then 
proceed  to  bed. 

"  How  was  trade,  Sid  ?  "  he  asked,  rather  sleepily,  as 
he  leisurely  scratched  his  match  at  the  chimney. 

"  Cele !  you  can't  build  on  my  word,  you  know!  "  just 
then  exclaimed  Sidney  to  his  sister. 

"That  is  n't  building,  Sid,  it 's  altering,"  replied  Celia. 

"It 's  '  prefixing,'  "  persisted  Sidney.  "And  you  said 
we  could  n't  do  that." 

"  '  H  O,'  before  '  nest,'  is  quite  honest,"  laughed  Celia, 
and  gathered  up  the  word. 

"  Don't  see  how  a  fellow  is  going  to  tell,"  said  Sid. 
"You  would  n't  let  Ethel  make  '  fairly  '  from  '  fair,'  the 
other  night ;  and  then  mother  went  and  made  '  fairy  ' !  " 

"  Of  course  ;  it  was  n't  a  derivation.  There  might  be  a 
question,  perhaps,  in  that  case  ;  but  it  was  n't  direct ;  and 
this  is  certainly  no  derivation,  or  like  word,  at  all.  Don't 
you  see  ?  " 

"  He  don't  hear,"  said  Algernon,  screwing  down  his 
wick  with  a  little  difficulty,  and  taking  up  the  lamp  to  go. 
"  How  's  trade,  Sid  ?  " 

"  Oh  !    nobody   came,   and  it  thundered,  and  I   came 


154  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

"  Locked  the  door  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes.  Key  's  up  in  our  room." 

"  Bring  away  the  till  ?  " 

"  No.     Did  n't  think.     Was  n't  much  in  it." 

"  Wish  you  'd  get  the  key,  then." 

"  Yes,  run  ;  Algie  's  tired,"  said  Celia.  And  Sidney 
ran  up-stairs  and  quickly  back  again  with  the  key  ;  in  a 
hurry,  now  that  it  was  his  turn,  to  make  "  cheats  "  out  of 
Celia's  "  eats."  "  Then  that  ain't  a  prefix,  either,"  he 
said,  triumphantly. 

It  was  queer  that  there  were  those  two  words  —  and  the 
last  one  made  just  so  —  when  Algie  came  in  again.  He 
did  not  look  exactly  tired,  now ;  there  was  no  sleep  in  his 
eyes ;  he  walked  up  to  the  table,  gave  a  look,  but  hardly 
as  if  that  were  what  he  came  for ;  and  asked  Sidney  once 
more,  "  Nobody  in  while  I  was  gone  ?  " 

"No,  nobody,"  answered  Sid,  simply.  He  did  not 
think  of  his  nap  at  that  moment ;  in  fact,  he  had  not  at 
all  realized  that  he  had  more  than  dropped  his  book  — 
and  himself  —  for  an  instant,  when  that  sudden  darkness 
and  thunder-clap  had  come. 

Algernon  looked  strangely  puzzled ;  a  boy  that  made  no 
attempt  to  cover  up  his  tracks  better  than  that  might 
puzzle  anybody  ;  he  turned  round  without  further  remark, 
and  walked  off  to  bed. 

The  next  morning  he  was  up  and  dressed  a  good  half- 
hour  before  Sidney  woke.  He  went  down  through  the 
kitchen  into  the  shop.  Runy  presently  followed  him,  and 
gave  him  a  mail  parcel  that  had  come  the  night  before. 

"  All  right  this  mornin',  Boss  ?  "  she  asked  the  senior 
partner,  in  her  jocose  Irish  way,  that  yet  sounded  to  Al 
gernon's  sensitiveness  as  if  she  had  some  meaning  in  it. 
He  looked  round  at  her  sharply,  and  spoke  as  sharply. 

"  Right  ?  of  course  it 's  right.  What  should  be 
wrong  ?  " 


HOW  THE  MIDDIES  SET   UP  SHOP.      155 

"  Ah,  who  knows  ?  might  ha'  bin  signs  o'  mice  'r  the 
like  —  whin  the  cat 's  away,  ye  mind.  Er  the  cat  hersilf , 
aven,"  returned  Runy,  with  a  half  offended  and  mysterious 
toss  of  the  head.  She  was  not  used  to  short  words  from 
Algernon. 

Algernon  went  to  work  in  silence,  and  Runy  departed 
to  mould  biscuits  and  stir  oatmeal.  Algie  opened  the 
mail-parcel,  and  filled  the  Salem  jar  to  the  top  with  the 
new  supply  that  had  opportunely  come  ;  then  he  broke  up, 
lightened  and  evened  the  butternut  maple  in  the  tin  can, 
taking  out  a  little  paper  bag  full  which  he  would  carry  in 
to  his  mother  presently.  When  Sidney  came  there  should 
not  be  any  manifest  necessity  for  explanation  or  discovery. 
Things  should  not  show  so  plainly  as  even  the  boy  him 
self  must  have  expected  they  would  show.  He  would  not 
have  to  find  his  brother  out.  It  should  all  apparently 
have  got  passed  by,  and  covered  up.  If  Sid  could  have 
it  so  —  if  he  would  not  have  to  tell ! 

Sid's  eyes  lit  upon  the  Salem  jar  when  he  came  in, 
naturally  enough. 

"  Why,  when  did  you  fill  that  up  ?  "  he  asked  quickly. 
"  When  did  they  come  ?  " 

"  Last  night,"  replied  Algernon,  briefly,  letting  both 
questions  pass  as  answered  with  the  words  that  fitted  the 
last,  though  he  hated  himself  as  he  did  so,  for  even  that 
accidental  prevarication,  and  for  hedging  his  brother's 
fault  with  it.  Yet  if  haste  and  half-darkness  would  better 
account  for  the  escape  from  reckoning  —  if  Sid  would 
think  such  a  thing  good  luck,  and  accept  it  —  oh  !  what 
difference  did  it  make  ?  it  was  all  miserable,  altogether. 

"  I  'm  going  to  shut  up  shop  to-day,"  he  said,  abruptly. 
"  I  'm  going  up  to  the  Basin  with  Rob  Casawarie." 
"  You  said  you  could  n't,"  said  Sidney,  wonderingly. 
"  I  've  changed  my  mind,"  was  all  that  Algernon  an- 


156  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

swered,  so  that  Sidney  wondered  the  more  ;  so  much  that 
it  left  him  nothing  to  say,  again,  except,  forlornly,  — 

"  You  were  off  all  yesterday  afternoon.  You  have  n't 
gone  away  from  me  so  much  since  I  had  my  collection  of 
complaints." 

That  phrase,  into  which  they  had  quaintly  condensed 
Sidney's  involuntary  occupation  and  endurance  of  the 
springtime,  as  if  it  had  been  an  odd  choice,  like  the  gath 
ering  together  of  buttons  or  stamps,  to  see  how  many  he 
could  get  —  touched  Algernon  with  all  that  lay  back  of 
his  present  trouble,  and  that  seemed  put  so  far  away  by  it. 
He  changed  his  mind  again. 

"  I  won't  go  away  from  you  now,"  he  said,  with  some 
thing  queer  in  his  voice.  "  I  '11  stick  by  you,  old  Sid, 
anyway.  But  we  won't  keep  shop.  We  '11  begin  to  build 
that  parlor  in  the  apple-tree." 

Yet  all  day,  though  he  remained  patient  and  pleasant 
in  their  work-play,  there  was  something  that  seemed  to 
have  dampened  Algie  down.  "  He  ain't  put  out,"  Sid 
ney  puzzled  with  himself,  anxiously ;  "  but  he 's  kind 
of  blowed  out."  And  something  damped  down  his  ques 
tion,  also,  when  he  would,  with  the  old  directness,  have 
asked  him  why. 

It  went  on  so,  day  after  day.  There  was  an  evident 
trouble  in  Algernon's  mind,  and  a  hitch  in  his  life,  that 
nobody  could  detect  the  meaning  of,  or  see  cause  for. 
Sid,  the  nearest  of  all,  was  most  puzzled  of  all,  and  most 
strangely  aggrieved.  Algie  was  so  queer  with  him.  He 
did  n't  act  mad,  there  had  been  nothing  to  be  mad  about. 
But  there  was  a  way  with  him,  part  of  the  time,  like 
the  "  hold-off "  he  had  with  fellows  like  Joe  Rabin ;  a 
kind  of  "  squirm,"  as  Sid  used  to  say,  "  under  the  skin," 
that  he  should  think  anybody  might  feel,  if  they  did  n't 
see  it.  Now,  poor  little  Sid  felt  it  himself.  There  was 


HOW   THE  MIDDIES  SET   UP  SHOP.      157 

none  of  the  old  identification  of  thought,  plan,  and  inter 
est  ;  the  instantaneous  turning  to  each  other  —  for  one 
could  n't  squirm  without  the  other  shrinking  away  in  spite 
of  himself  —  with  every  bit  of  fun,  new  notion,  happen 
ing,  expectation ;  poor  little  Sid  found  the  world  all  at 
once  different,  and  could  n't  think  what  had  made  it  so. 
Sometimes  Al  looked  at  him  suddenly,  with  a  kind  of 
frightened,  pitying  expression,  as  he  had  done  when  he 
had  the  "  complaints ; "  then  again  it  was  as  if  Algie 
himself  was  sick  of  things  ;  he  would  answer  a  customer, 
hand  out  what  was  wanted,  take  the  change,  or  brush  it 
into  the  till,  with  that  half-disgusted,  quite  indifferent  way, 
and  sit  down  with  his  elbows  on  his  knees  and  his  chin 
in  his  hands,  and  go  to  thinking  —  thinking  —  without 
anything,  as  Sidney  had  been  used  to  experience,  coming 
out  of  it  all,  of  suggestion,  purpose,  confidence. 

"  What  ails  you,  Al?  "  he  did  ask  him,  now  and  then. 
And  each  time  Algernon  only  got  up,  or  shook  himself  a 
little,  or  —  once  —  let  his  arm,  as  he  stretched  it  out 
wearily,  drop  with  a  kind  of  pathetic  recurrence  of  old 
habit  across  Sidney's  shoulders,  as  he  answered,  in  the 
word  that  is  but  the  beginning  of  a  sentence  that  may 
not  be  spoken,  "  Oh,  nothing." 

Nothing  —  that  can  be  helped.  Nothing  —  that  I  can 
say  to  you.  Nothing  —  that  may  ever  be  any  different. 
Nothing  —  that  I  can  bear  to  own  is  something  !  These 
are  the  meanings  which  all  we  human  children  hide  un 
der  our  denying  "  nothings,"  and  put  away  to  endure,  to 
work  out,  to  experience,  to  treasure,  to  fear,  to  hope  for, 
by  ourselves. 

But  this  state  of  things  could  not  last  forever.  It  never 
does.  Nothing  turns  out  to  be  nothing,  and  evaporates ; 
or  it  comes  to  a  head,  gets  unendurable,  brings  a  crisis,  or 
forces  some  action  which  changes  everything. 


158  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

Vacation  was  drawing  to  an  end.  Sidney's  long  sum 
mer  had  built  him  up  in  health,  and  both  the  Middies 
were  to  return  to  school.  But  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Frost  were 
beginning  to  be  anxious  lest  for  Algernon  the  business 
which  he  had  made  so  real  a  thing  of  might  have  too 
closely  replaced  his  book- work  to  be  good  for  him.  They 
questioned  whether  they  might  not  have  made  a  mistake 
in  allowing  him  so  to  employ  himself  as  practically  to  have 
lost  his  holidays. 

This  feeling  approached  conviction  with  his  father, 
when  one  evening  he  asked  Algie,  quite  casually,  how  the 
trial  balances  were  going  on.  He  had  not  seen  one  for 
two  or  three  weeks. 

"Haven't  made  'em  out,"  was  the  languid  reply. 

"  Been  winding  up  business  in  the  usual  boys'  way,  eh  ? 
eating  up  balance  of  stock  ?  " 

Now,  as  there  were  screws  and  matches  and  tin-tacks, 
pins,  needles,  soap,  and  hairpins  in  that  same  stock,  this 
was  really  hard  upon  a  boy's  appetite  and  self-control  at 
once.  But  the  tears  need  not  have  come  into  Algie's  eyes 
for  it,  and  it  need  not  have  made  him  turn  so  quickly 
aside  from  his  father's  look. 

"  Anything  wrong,  my  boy  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Frost,  anx 
iously  ;  "  or  are  you  only  tired,  or  a  little  disappointed,  or 
What  ?  " 

Algie  looked  him  full  in  the  face,  to  reply  to  that ;  and 
a  half-restrained  quiver  on  his  lip  was  drawn  in  to  firm 
ness.  "  I  don't  know,  father,  so  don't  ask  me,"  he  said. 
So  Mr.  Frost  knew  that  there  was  something,  and  that  he 
must  wait.  He  respected  his  son's  right  to  choose  his  own 
time. 

"  Will  you  just  run  down  to  the  post-office  with  this 
letter  ?  "  he  asked  the  boy ;  but  his  tone  said,  "  we  will 
leave  it  now  ;  I  'm  all  ready  for  you  if  you  want  me." 


HOW  THE  MIDDIES  SET   UP  SHOP.      159 

And  Algernon's  "  Yes,  sir,"  had  a  hearty  "  thank  you  " 
hidden  in  it. 

"  And  afterward,"  said  his  father,  "  I  wish  you  would 
go  up  to  Mr.  Ostridge's  and  ask  him  for  that  pamphlet 
he  spoke  of,  if  he  can  spare  it.  I  should  like  to  look  at 
it,  and  will  return  it  to-morrow." 

Algie  took  the  letter  and  ran  off.  It  was  a  comfort, 
after  all,  to  think  of  his  father,  who  was  so  kind  and  wise, 
and  who  was  Sidney's  father  as  well.  The  responsibility 
was  not  all  on  his  young  shoulders.  Only  —  ought  he  to 
tell  his  father  this  —  that  really  he  kept  indignantly  con 
tradicting  to  himself,  was  nothing  to  tell,  after  all  ? 

At  the  post-office  he  received  a  letter  directed  to  him 
self.  It  was  in  Mrs.  Shatoraine's  strong,  graceful  hand, 
and  was  postmarked  "  Lebanon."  This  was  half  a  chill, 
again,  and  half  another  comfort.  They  had  had  such 
eager  pleasure  in  Aunt  Thankful's  letters  and  cooperation, 
until  now  that  the  good  seemed  gone  out  of  everything ; 
and  yet,  again,  Aunt  Thankful  would  be  coming  soon,  and 
she  was  sure  to  see  and  help,  without  a  word  said.  She 
would  be  right  into  everything. 

He  walked  up  to  the  Brim,  and  rang  at  Mr.  Ostridge's 
door,  asked  for  him,  and  was  shown  into  a  little  library 
where  Mr.  Ostridge  entered  presently,  and  he  told  his 
errand. 

The  gentleman  left  the  room  to  look  for  the  pamphlet, 
which  was  in  an  up-stairs  study.  While  he  was  gone, 
Algernon,  sitting  under  the  light  of  a  bright  gas-drop  at 
the  table,  opened  Mrs.  Shatoraine's  letter  and  glanced 
along  over  the  first  page. 

"  Oh  dear !  "  he  exclaimed,  softly  and  bitterly,  in  a  way 
too  much  like  a  man's  moan ;  for  his  trouble  all  surged 
back  into  his  mind  with  the  bright  plan  the  letter  proposed 
and  unfolded. 


160  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

"Pardon  me,  my  boy,"  said  the  voice  of  Mr.  Ostridge, 
behind  him.  "  But  why  '  oh  dear '  ?  no  bad  news  in  your 
letter,  I  hope?" 

With  the  surprise,  the  kindliness,  and  the  impossibility 
of  explanation,  Algernon's  throat  and  eyes  filled  up. 

"  No,  sir,"  he  struggled  to  say,  for  he  must  say  some 
thing.  "  Only  something  that  ought  to  be  jolly  —  and 
is  n't  any  more  !  "  It  burst  forth  in  spite  of  him  ;  and  in 
spite  of  him  he  ended  with  a  sob,  the  breakdown  of  his 
long,  lonely  worry. 

Mr.  Ostridge  drew  up  a  chair  and  sat  down  beside 
him.  "  Perhaps,  as  I  think  you  know  I  like  you,  and  am 
your  friend,  you  will  tell  me  what,  and  why  ?  "  he  said, 
quietly  ;  for  Algie's  outburst  could  not  be  —  politely  or  in 
differently —  ignored.  "Is  it  business  trouble,  maybe  ?" 
the  kind  business-man  went  on.  "  I  am  used  to  that  sort 
of  thing,  you  know." 

"It  isn't  anything"  Algie  asserted,  valiantly;  "and 
yet  —  I  'd  give  the  whole  shop  to  know  it  was  n't !  " 

"  Do  you  mistrust  anybody,  then  ?  " 

When  it  came  to  that,  Algie  stood  up,  trying  to  force 
away  his  distress  again  to  the  secrecy  he  had  kept  it  in  ; 
but  like  the  genie  from  the  casket,  it  had  come  forth,  and 
could  not  be  crowded  back.  At  any  rate,  the  fact  of 
trouble  could  not. 

"  No,  sir.  There  is  n't  anybody  to  mistrust.  There  's 
only  my  brother  and  I,"  he  said,  proudly.  And  then,  in 
an  instant,  there  was  quite  enough  made  plain  to  Mr. 
Ostridge. 

"  Have  you  investigated  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  could  n't  investigate,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Would  you  mind,  now,  just  telling  me  all  about  it  ? 
the  mere  facts,  I  mean.  I  can  reserve  judgment  as  gen 
erously  as  you  can ;  and  two  heads  are  apt  to  be  better 
than  one ;  and  the  other  of  the  two  may  be  the  cooler." 


HOW   THE  MIDDIES  SET   UP  SHOP.      161 

"I  may  as  well  now,"  said  Algie,  gathering  himself 
up.  "  And  because  you  are  my  friend,  I  will.  It  was 
one  afternoon,  weeks  ago,  when  I  went  with  my  mother 
and  Ethel  to  Pine  Orchards  ;  and  it  came  on  to  rain  ;  that 
big  thunder-storm  and  hail,  you  know,  sir.  We  were  kept 
away  till  after  dark ;  and  I  left  Sid  in  the  shop.  He 
does  n't  know  that  anybody  came  in  ;  he  might  have  gone 
out,  you  know,  sir,  and  left  the  door  unlocked,  and  not 
thought  anything  about  it  —  to  tell  me.  I  have  n't  asked 
him  very  much  about  it." 

Algernon  spoke  eagerly,  and  looked  intently  into  Mr. 
Ostridge's  face. 

"  Or  he  might  have  gone  to  sleep,"  said  Mr.  Ostridge. 

"Why,  so  he  might!  I  never  thought  of  that  —  but 
then,  who  was  there  ?  Nobody  that  ever  comes  there  — 
that  was  round  that  day  —  would  have  touched  any 
thing." 

"  Then  there  were  things  meddled  with  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  the  maple  sugar  and  butternuts  ;  and  the  Salem 
Gibraltars  —  oh  !  it  sounds  so  small  and  mean  to  care  ; 
but  it  was  n't  the  things  !  " 

"  I  know  that,"  said  Mr.  Ostridge.  "  Who  was  there 
about  the  house  ?  Whom  do  you  have  in  your  kitchen  ? 
and  who  might  come  for  company,  there  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  our  Runy  would  n't  pick  up  loose  gold  —  except 
to  take  care  of  it  for  anybody  it  belonged  to  !  "  said  Algie. 
"  Much  less  a  few  dimes  or  goodies !  " 

"Have  you  inquired  of  her  ?  she  might  be  able  to  give 
some  evidence.  You  never  know  where  a  clue  may  be." 

"  Why,  I  never  inquired  of  anybody,"  said  Algie. 

"  And  so  kept  all  this  to  yourself,  to  worry  over  ?     The 

best  way  is  to  face  things  at  once.     I   advise  you  to  go 

home  and  ask  Runy  if  she  can  remember  anything  about 

that  day.     When  you  've  tried  her,  come  to  me  again,  and 

ll 


162  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

ask  Sidney  if  he  thinks  he  went  to  sleep  while  he  was  in 
the  shop  ;  or  if  he  left  it  at  all  without  shutting  up.  But 
probably  you  asked  that  of  him,  at  first." 

"  No ;  I  did  n't  ask  him  anything,  except  if  anybody 
had  come  in  ;  and  when  he  said  there  hadn't  —  it  did  n't 
seem  any  use  —  and  I  did  n't  want  —  to  make  him  tell 
me  anything." 

Through  all  these  "  anys,"  hesitated  over  and  then 
spoken  with  a  sort  of  determined  confidence,  as  if  there 
could  be  nothing  held  back  behind  them,  Mr.  Ostridge 
discerned,  with  a  warm  liking  and  sympathy,  the  boy's 
character,  and  experience  in  this  thing  ;  and  it  was  a  good 
grasp  of  the  hand,  and  not  an  ordinary  touch  of  courtesy, 
that  he  gave  him,  as  Algernon  rose  and  said,  "  Well,  good 
night,  sir,  and  thank  you." 

Mr.  Ostridge  went  with  him  to  the  door,  where  he  said 
again,  "Just  ask,  and  then  come  to  me.  I  feel  pretty 
sure  you  '11  get  hold  of  something." 

That  up-hill  walk  in  the  shower  had  at  once  recurred 
to  Mr.  Ostridge's  recollection,  when  Algernon  had  said, 
"  That  big  thunder-storm  and  hail,  you  know."  And  an 
instantaneous  photograph  had  flashed  back  with  it  upon 
his  mental  sight,  of  a  boy  under  the  corner  wall  in  the 
rain,  emptying  his  shoes,  and  putting  a  handful  of  some 
thing  red  and  white  hurriedly  into  his  pocket. 

"  It  looked  like  goody-stuff,  then ;  and  I  know  the  boy, 
and  I  never  liked  him  ;  and  for  that  reason  I  won't  say 
anything  until  I  see  if  somebody  else  does.  There  's  the 
making  in  that  boy  of  such  a  man  as  the  world  wants 
more  of,"  was  Mr.  Ostridge's  soliloquy,  as  he  closed  his 
front  door  and  walked  back  to  his  library.  And  the  last 
words,  there  is  hardly  need  to  say,  did  not  refer  to  Master 
Joe  Rabin. 


HOW  THE  MIDDIES  SET  UP  SHOP.      163 

IX. 

"  Runy,  do  you  recollect  about  that  stormy  afternoon 
when  I  drove  out  to  Pine  Orchards  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  should  just  think  I  might,"  returned  Runy. 
"  Me  and  Miss  Cely  our  loahn  in  the  house  —  an'  I  wish, 
faith,  Madge  an'  Bobby  was  back  from  their  wisits  an' 
their  rackets  —  an'  the  blin's  all  a  slatterin'  wid  the  win' 
in  a  minute,  an'  everythin'  to  shut  up  an'  shut  down  afore 
yer  could  turn  ;  I  guess  I  recklets  it  —  an'  why  not  in 
deed  ?  " 

"  Do  you  remember  anything  —  well,  seeing  anybody  in 
about  the  place  or  the  shop  ? "  Algernon  pursued,  with 
the  same  old  shrinking  from  direct  inquiry. 

"  Ah,  ye  wants  ter  know,  now,  diz  ye  ?  Yer  might  'a' 
let  me  tell  ye  afore.  'T  would  be  quare  if  I  had  n't  for 
gotten  by  this  time  ;  fer  't  wa'n't  much  ter  lay  up  ter  min- 
tion.  Only  in  the  time  iv  it  —  af  ye  'd  missed  annything 
—  but  ye  see  ye  did  n't —  't  would  n't  bin  me  —  ner  the 
cat !  " 

"  Runy,  1  did  miss  something.  Can  you  help  me  find 
out  where  it  went  ?  I  don't  care  for  the  miss  ;  but  I  'd 
give  a  good  deal  to  know  —  now." 

"Well,  'twas  jist  this,  thin  —  ner  more  ner  less,"  said 
Runy,  stopping  in  the  wringing  out  of  her  dish-towel,  and 
regarding  him  with  keen,  pleasant  eyes ;  "  I  'd  lift  me 
kitchen  tidy,  an'  gone  up  te  me  room,  an'  was  sittin'  be- 
hin'  me  ahnin'  blin'  —  the  comfort  it  is  te  me  !  in  the 
winder  perjectin'  over  the  arey ;  when  what  wid  I  see  bu 
that  feller  that 's  sore  fer  good  eyes  — Joe  Rabin  "  — 

"  Why,  Runy  !  it  could  n't  have  been  !  I  picked  him 
up  out  on  the  Valley  Road  myself,  and  took  him  on  to 
Tulick's  Corner,  on  the  way  to  Pixley,  to  play  base-ball." 

"  Thin  me  story  's  sp'ilt,  I  s'pose,"  returned  Runy,  giv- 


164  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

ing  the  final  wring  to  her  dish-towel  and  shaking  it  out 
over  the  chimney  line.  But  tone  and  toss  told  of  a  whole 
flood  of  information  and  of  certainty  dammed  up  behind 
her  words. 

"  Go  ahead,  Runy.  Tell  me  what  you  thought  you  saw. 
But  a  fellow  can't  be  in  two  places  at  once,  you  know." 

"  I  know  he  can't,"  said  Runy,  with  awful  dignity  and 
wisdom.  "  That 's  a  nary-buy,  an'  it 's  agin  the  law.  An' 
Joe  Rabin  war  n't  out  at  Pixley,  the  more  accordin'.  Fer 
he  walked  in  here,  an'  down  the  arey,  on  his  two  feet,  with 
his  shoes  on  ;  an'  he  kim  out  awhile  after,  with  his  shoes 
in  his  hands  ;  jist  when  we  'd  got  all  the  blin's  in,  that  was, 
an'  a  tarmint  thim  blessed  ahnin'  blin's  is  in  a  gale  an'  a 
hurry  ;  an'  I  see  him  —  from  the  spare-room  gardin  win 
der  —  lookin'  up  an'  down  the  house  as  he  did  when  he 
kim  in,  an'  seein'  nobody  ;  but  there  's  alwers  eyes  set 
somewhers  whin  there  's  a  thing  that 's  set  to  be  seen  to  ; 
an'  the  win'  roun'  the  corner  took  his  hat,  an'  he  pit  up  his 
han's  to  grab  that  in  the  gateway,  an'  a  thing  dropped  out 
iv  his  shoe,  that  I  don't  wonder  he  could  n't  put  it  on  com 
fortable  ;  an'  I  picked  it  up  arterwards  anunder  the  bushes, 
an'  there  's  the  highdentikill  Sailin'  Jibroliter!  "  And  Runy 
produced  from  the  depths  of  the  match-jar  on  the  kitchen 
mantel  a  dusty,  lean,  rain-melted,  air-eaten  specimen  of  the 
once  delicate  dainty,  and  reached  it  out  with  a  triumph  of 
proof  and  of  probity,  to  the  confounded  Algernon. 

"  But  where  was  Sid  ?  "  he  asked  impetuously.  "  He 
didn't  sell" — And  there  Algie  stopped,  with  a  reflex 
wave  of  the  old  difficulty  and  uncertainty  at  his  heart  and 
against  his  speech. 

"  Course  he  did  n't.  That  next  thunder-clap  was  the 
first  thing  he  'd  known  fer  one  good  hour  —  tell  me  !  he  kim 
in  on  that,  an'  up-stairs  ter  me  an'  Miss  Cely,  an'  he  said  he 
believed  he  'd  bin  jist  droppin'  asleep  ;  but  it  wod  'a'  taken 


HOW  THE  MIDDIES  SET   UP  SHOP.      165 

a  while  ter  finish  the  wakin',  if  it  had  n't  bin  fer  the 
keepin'  on  o'  the  lightnin'  an'  the  hail  an'  the  thunder,  all 
ter  once  an'  altergither,  I  guess !  He  was  no  more  stiddy 
on  his  legs  nor  a  pisoned  fly !  That 's  how  I  seen  through 
the  stockin'-footin'.  But  't  was  all  right,  yer  said  yerself  ; 
an'  'twar  n't  fer  the  like'r  me  to  be  conterdictin',  was  it  ?  " 

"  You  're  a  brick,  Runy  !  "  shouted  Algie,  dropping  his 
long  load  of  mistrust  and  fear,  that  had  made  him  old  and 
grave  beyond  his  growth,  and  turning  himself  on  the  in 
stant  into  a  boy  again.  "  You  're  a  solid,  no-end,  square- 
cornered,  everlasting  old  brick  !  "  and  he  seized  her  second 
dish-towel  away  from  her,  flung  it  backward  over  his  head 
upon  the  kitchen  table  —  as  it  happened,  and  caught  and 
shook  her  two  wet  hands. 

"  Don't  see  what  yer  so  awful  pleased  at,  though,"  said 
Runy,  regarding  him  with  her  keen  look  again  over  her 
shoulder,  as  she  went  and  picked  up  her  towel.  "  If  yer 
took  up  wid  thinkin'  "  — 

"  I  did  n't  —  not  for  a  minute,  Runy;  don't  say  it !  I 
only  did  n't  dare  to  stop  to  think !  "  interrupted  Alger 
non. 

"  Ye  was  jist  desarvin'  not  to  be  conterdicted,"  finished 
Runy,  leaving  out  the  forbidden  hypothesis  of  his  thought, 
and  speaking  with  a  quiet  provisional  scorn.  But  she  had 
it,  as  it  were,  to  herself ;  for  Algernon  was  out  and  off 
from  the  kitchen  door. 

"  Sid  !  Sid  !  "  she  heard  him  calling.  "  Where  are 
you  ?  Come  along,  old  boy  !  Here 's  a  letter  from  Aunt 
Thankful,  and  there  's  business  in  it.  No  end  of  a  jolly 
old  plan  I  " 

But  she  did  not  hear  or  see  him,  after  he  had  found 
Sidney,  and  the  two  had  gone  through  the  letter  together, 
and  had  discussed  Mrs.  Shatoraine's  brilliant  idea  of  a 
big  twenty-eight  pound  can  of  first-rate  maple  sugar,  at 


166  HOMESPUN  YARNS. 

ten  cents  a  pound,  to  be  brought  down  by  her  from  the 
country,  and  to  be  melted  and  boiled  into  real,  fresh,  rich 
maple  syrup,  and  bottled  for  sale  to  their  best  custom 
ers  —  at  twenty-five  cents  a  bottle  —  a  small  lot  at  a  time, 
as  wanted  —  and  when  Sid  all  at  once  turned  from  the 
project  to  Algie  himself,  to  say,  "  Why,  it 's  done  you  lots 
of  good,  Algie  !  I  did  n't  think  you  were  ever  going  to 
be  glad  about  the  shop  again !  "  she  did  not  hear  Algie 
say  —  nor  see  him  put  his  arm  round  Sidney's  neck  while 
he  did  say  it  —  "I  'm  glad  of  everything  again  !  only,  I  've 
got  something  that  —  Sid !  do  you  think  you  could  for 
give  me  for  something  without  asking  me  what  ?  because 
it  never  really  was  anything,  and  I  could  n't  tell  you  what 
it  was  if  I  tried !  " 

Sid  stared.  "  I  don't  see  what  I  have  to  do  with  it, 
then  !  "  he  said.  "  Except  it 's  what 's  made  you  kind  of 
grouty  and  don't-care-ish,  lately." 

"  Forgive  that,  then." 

"  So  I  will,"  answered  Sid,  laughing,  "  now  it 's  over. 
But  it  was  n't  lively  while  it  lasted." 

And  Frost  Brothers  went  down  the  shady  flagged  path 
under  the  syringas,  to  the  area  steps,  and  down  into  the 
very  shop  door,  with  their  arms  across  each  other 's 
shoulders. 

Algernon  walked  up  to  the  Brim  that  afternoon,  when 
the  train  had  been  in  long  enough  to  allow  for  dinner 
time.  Mr.  Ostridge  came  down  from  the  veranda  and 
met  him,  as  he  saw  him  coming  up  the  drive.  The  gentle 
man  had  a  half-smoked  cigar  in  his  fingers  which  he  threw 
off  into  the  shrubbery  as  Algie  approached.  "  I  do  that 
out  of  respect  to  a  boy,  as  I  would  to  a  woman,"  he  has 
been  heard  to  say.  "  They  can't  like  it,  and  we  don't 
want  them  to  like  it." 

Algernon's  bright  face  told  a  good  story,  without  a 
word. 


HOW  THE  MIDDIES  SET   UP  SHOP.      167 

"  All  comfortable  on  exchange  to  -  day,  eh  ?  "  Mr. 
Ostridge  asserted,  interrogatively. 

"  Yes,  sir.  It 's  all  right  —  for  us,  at  least.  It  was  a 
boy  —  that  I  need  n't  tell  of  —  because  if  it  had  been  some 
boys  I  would  n't  have  told  of  them  —  that  came  in  — 
stocking-footed,  sir !  when  Sidney  was  asleep.  And  he 

—  did  n't  either  beg  or  buy." 

"Pretty  much  as  I  expected;  stocking  -  feet  and  all 
agreeing.  For  it  was  a  boy  —  that  I  need  n't  tell  of  now 

—  that  I  saw,  under  your  father's  garden  wall,  in  the  hail, 
pulling  lollypops  out  of  an  old  shoe,"  said  Mr.  Ostridge. 

"  That  day  ?  "  asked  Algernon,  quickly. 

"  Yes.  That  afternoon  of  the  unmistakable  hail-storm," 
replied  his  friend. 

Algernon  looked  intensely  satisfied,  with  a  curious  shade 
of  puzzle. 

"  It 's  all  as  clear  as  Q.  E.  D.,"  he  said,  "  except  one 
impossible  part,  unless  you  and  I  saw  different  boys,  and 
Runy  was  mistaken.  The  boy  Runy  says  —  and  I  should 
think,  only  for  this  —  went  out  to  Pixley's ;  I  took  him 
up  myself,  and  set  him  down  at  Tulick's  Corner  less  than 
an  hour  before." 

"  The  boy  I  mean  came  in  on  Semple's  wagon  from  the 
Orchards,  half  an  hour  before,"  returned  Mr.  Ostridge, 
coolly  matching  query  with  information,  as  if  armed  and 
equipped  beforehand,  as  the  closest  law-evidence  might 
require.  "  I  was  at  the  market-house  when  they  drove 
up.  The  man  came  in  ;  he  had  some  late  sweet  corn  and 
some  fine  melons,  I  remember ;  the  .boy  went  up  the  hill 
like  a  rocket —  I  have  a  habit  of  noticing  things,  you  see. 
And  I  find  they  get  docketed  and  put  away,  so  that  they 
are  usually  on  call  if  wanted." 

"  I  'm  awfully  glad,  Mr.  Ostridge  !  "  said  Algernon,  so 
glad  that  he  had  not  another  word  to  pay. 


168  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

"  So  am  I,"  said  the  gentleman.  "  But  it 's  queer  of 
us  both ;  for  there  's  somebody  in  fault,  you  see,  anyway. 
The  bad  thing  is  n't  shoved  out  of  the  world." 

"  I  know.  I  've  thought  of  that,"  said  Algie,  slowly. 
"But  dirt  has  to  go  somewhere,"  he  added,  brightening 
suddenly ;  "  only  we  want  to  sweep  as  clean  as  we  can 
round  us !  " 

Mr.  Ostridge  laughed  heartfully.  "  Very  good  !  You 
keep  on  sweeping  —  for  a  few  years  longer  —  and  I  guess 
you  '11  find  you  've  made  a  place  to  stand  in  !  — And  look 
here,"  —  as  Algernon  was  raising  his  hand  to  his  cap  and 
taking  a  step  as  if  of  departure, —  "  remember  I  'm  your 
business  adviser.  Come  to  me  when  you  want  anything 
that  I  can  say,  or  do." 

And  the  two  shook  hands,  then,  as  friend  with  friend, 
and  said  good-by. 

That  very  evening,  Algernon  brought  a  somewhat  long 
and  intricate  paper  to  his  father.  It  was  a  balance  sheet 
for  three  weeks.  There  was  one  item  in  it  set  down 
thus : 

9  Salem  Gibraltara, 23 

Butternut-maple,  ab't  £  Ib 15 

.38 

In  the  balance  it  was  offset  with  — 
Riddance  of  rubbish,  and  finding  friend        .    cheap  .     .38 

He  waited  till  his  father  came  to  that,  resting  his  finger 
upon  the  unusual  entry,  and  looking  up  with  a  smile  — 
and  then  told  him  the  whole  story. 

"  It 's  all  the  trouble  I  ever  had,  father  —  and  it  was  n't 
any  —  and  I  'm  out  of  it,"  he  said,  with  delightful  con 
trariety. 

"  Why  did  n't  you  come  to  me  with  it  sooner  ?  "  asked 
Mr.  Frost. 


HOW  THE  MIDDIES  SET   UP  SHOP.      169 

"  Because  —  it  was  n't  anything,  you  know  —  and  —  I 
did  n't  want  you  into  it ! "  With  which  clinging  to  his 
paradox,  and  the  inevitable  laugh  from  his  father  that 
ended  none  the  less  with  a  look  of  loving  gravity  quite  as 
paradoxical,  the  subject  was  dismissed,  or  nearly  so. 

"  What  shall  you  do  about  —  the  person  whose  name 
we  are  not  to  mention  ?  You  can't  have  him  coming  about 
the  place,  I  should  think  ?  "  Mr.  Frost  inquired  and  sug 
gested. 

"  Oh,  he  won't  come  now,  I  guess !  " 

"  I  'm  not  sure,"  returned  his  father.  "  They  say  if 
you  lend  to  a  rogue  you  are  rid  of  him  ;  but  if  he  helps 
himself,  I  should  think  he  might  —  not  dare  not  to  come 
back  again." 

Algernon  perceived,  and  considered,  rather  anxiously. 
Presently  he  said,  with  a  half-comic  twinkle,  "  I  wonder 
if  I  had  n't  better  leave  it  to  Runy  ?  "  and  Mr.  Frost 
thought  it  would  be  an  excellent  way  to  do. 

Mr.  Frost  was  right. 

Joe  Rabin  had  been  off,  camping  out  for  several  weeks, 
with  some  other  boys  from  the  village.  When  he  got 
back,  he  let  nearly  another  week  go  by  without  making 
an  appearance  at  the  Olive-colored  House.  Then,  under 
the  working  of  the  very  reason  foreseen,  he  loitered  sneak- 
ingly  along,  one  quiet  afternoon.  The  boys  were  in  the 
shop,  and  Algie  saw  the  bob  of  his  old  hat  in  good  time, 
behind  the  garden  wall.  He  slipped  round  into  Runy's 
pleasant  kitchen,  on  the  slope  side,  and  said,  "  Now,  Runy, 
please  ;  you  're  wanted.  It 's  your  nary-buy  !  " 

So  Runy  clapped  an  iron  she  was  testing  back  upon  the 
stove,  put  something  from  the  shelf  into  her  pocket,  and 
started  forth. 

She  met  Joe  Rabin  on  the  flagged  walk. 

"  So  it 's  yees  that 's  back  ag'in  ?  "  she  accosted  him, 


170  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

planting  herself  full  across  his  way,  with  one  hand  on  her 
hip  and  the  other  in  her  pocket. 

Joe  looked  at  her,  and  stopped.  What  would  otherwise 
have  been  mere  impertinence  took  a  possibly  quite  differ 
ent  character  in  the  apprehension  of  the  something  in  him 
that  had  failed  to  be  a  conscience,  and  merely  developed 
into  a  dread  of  manifestations. 

He  attempted  a  poor  little  cowardly  laugh.  "  What  of 
it  ?  "  he  asked,  and  pulled  down  the  bucket  of  retribution 
upon  his  head  with  that  string. 

u  It 's  only  that  I  've  bin  a  watchin'  fer  yees,  ter  give 
yees  back  phat  ye  dropped,  out  0'  yer  shoe  —  the  last  time 
ye  was  over,"  said  the  Irish  Nemesis,  more  broadly  Irish 
than  ever  with  her  warmth.  "  I  'm  honest  —  I  am  ;  I  've 
kep'  it  safe  —  barrin'  dust  an'  flies  —  an'  there  ye  've  got 
it!" 

And  the  Sailin'  Jibroliter  struck  straight  against  the 
covetous  lips,  as  Runy  tossed  it,  not  violently,  but  with 
utterest  contempt,  full  into  Joe's  mean  and  frightened 
face. 

"  And  I  'd  adwise  yees,"  added  the  good  woman,  "  ter 
tek  it  an'  go  !  av  yees  '11  lit  Frasht  Brithers  aloahn,  it 's 
they  '11  lit  yees  aloahn.  An'  av  ye  '11  kape  the  shoes  an 
yer  fate,  an'  yer  han's  from  the  pickin'  an'  sthtalin'  — 
mebby  the  Lard  '11  hev  mercy  himsel'  an  the  bit  av  a  shole 
ye  've  got  lift !  " 

It  was  like  the  hanging  sentence  ;  Joe  Rabin  went 
away  with  it,  without  a  word.  Let  us  hope  it  did  him 
good  —  or  may  do  him  good,  for  there  is  time  yet  —  some 
how.  That  somehow  the  hanging  by  the  neck  may  have 
been  for  the  choking  of  the  evil  thing  in  him,  and  that  the 
soul  that  had  got  so  much  to  struggle  through  may,  of 
very  shame  and  self-contempt,  have  begun  its  struggle 
upward  there  and  then,  toward  the  forgiveness  and  saving 
that  are  waiting,  always. 


HOW  THE  MIDDIES  SET   UP  SHOP.      Ill 

But  we  will  not  say  good-by  with  the  hanging1  sentence. 
There  are  pleasanter  words  to  add  before  we  can  quite 
shut  up  our  story-shop. 

That  same  evening,  while  they  were  all  at  the  tea-table, 
a  carriage  was  driven  up  and  stopped  at  the  door.  The 
whole  family  was  together  again,  Madge  and  Bobby  hav 
ing  long  since  returned  from  their  visit.  The  dainty  table, 
with  Mrs.  Laura  beaming  motherly  at  the  head,  was  set 
round  with  happy  faces  ;  and  bright,  gay  sentences  and 
laughs  rang  back  and  forth,  as  the  day's  varying  histories 
and  results  and  comparisons  were  exchanged  over  this 
cheeriest  of  family  meals.  But  the  brightness  and  gay- 
ety  had  been  as  nothing  to  what  flashed  and  resounded 
when,  after  that  stop  of  wheels  and  ring  of  the  bell,  steps 
were  heard  coming  right  on  through  the  parlor,  and  Aunt 
Thankful,  with  the  same  old  jolly  girl-face  as  ever  —  the 
boys  said  afterward  —  stood  smiling  in  the  archway  under 
the  portiere  ;  her  tall,  handsome  husband  behind  her,  a 
little  way  back.  They  had  not  been  here  since  that 
Christmas-time  two  years  ago. 

Was  n't  there  room  made  quickly,  though,  beside  the 
long,  bright-covered  board  ?  Were  n't  there  hot  muffins 
brought  in,  and  fresh-brewed  tea,  and  more  cocoa  for 
Aunt  Thankye,  in  the  little  decorated  morning-glory  pot  ? 
And  did  n't  Runy's  face  grow  broad  with  smiles  and  stay 
so,  as  she  fetched  the  things,  and  Mrs.  Shatoraine  spoke 
to  her  with  quick,  friendly  gladness  at  still  finding  her 
there  ?  "  An'  where  shud  I  be  but  where  I  knows  I  'm 
sah  wull  aff  ?  "  she  answered,  in  full  Green  -  Erinish,  to 
the  pleasant  words. 

Mrs.  Raynald  Shatoraine  was  not  one  of  those  grown 
up  people  —  not  even  now  that  she  was  married  —  who 
must  get  over  and  through  with  all  the  grown  impatiences 
and  delights  and  news,  before  she  could  take  thought 


172  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

for  the  children,  or  let  their  little  eagernesses  in.  She 
did  not  say,  "  wait  awhile ;  "  she  did  not  even  wait  until 
they  ventured  in  with  their  small  interests.  It  was, 
"  How  goes  the  shop,  Middies  ?  "  before  she  had  buttered 
her  muffin,  or  stirred  her  cocoa-cup. 

And  then  did  n't  there  pour  forth  the  satisfactions  and 
successes  —  the  hopes  and  plans  —  the  thanks,  and  invi 
tations  of  "  come  and  see  !  "  And  next  morning,  before 
she  had  unpacked  her  trunk  —  except  to  pull  out,  to  the 
great  confusing  of  her  own  neat  parcels  and  foldings,  cer 
tain  packages  with  names  upon  them,  from  Ethelind's  and 
Celia's  to  Bobby's  and  Madge's  and  Miss  Runcina  O'Hal- 
lahan's,  for  which  she  would  not  keep  them  waiting  — 
the  minute  Mr.  Shatoraine  was  off  for  New  York  with  his 
step-brother-in-law,  Aunt  Thankful  was  down  in  the  base 
ment,  and  behind  the  counter  ;  and  a  big  box  was  opened, 
and  the  tall,  square  tin  of  real,  pure,  sirupy  maple  sugar 
was  uncovered  and  tested,  gauged  and  estimated,  and  pro 
nounced  a  "  bully  lot,"  and  an  A  1  investment. 

"  There  's  a  clear  two-fifty  profit  in  it,"  quoth  the  head 
Middy,  with  a  dignified  delight. 

"  Have  you  settled  what  to  do  with  your  profits  ? " 
asked  Aunt  Thankful. 

"  Oh,  we  have  n't  come  to  any  great  need  yet,"  said  Al 
gernon.  "  We  keep  it  right  along  in  stock,  mostly ;  or 
ready  to  buy  with.  But  when  all  this  sugar  's  sold  out, 
and  other  things  that  take  up  capital,  we  shall  have  to 
think,  I  suppose." 

"  First,  you  will  each  have  a  right  to  an  income,"  sug 
gested  Aunt  Thankful,  nibbling  a  "  Salem,"  as  she  sat  on 
a  cracker-keg. 

"  Well,  yes.  Only  we  Ve  had  all  the  fun  we  could 
have  bought  anywhere,  out  of  the  shop  itself ;  and  we 
have  n't  cared  for  allowances.  But  I  s'pose  we  shall  come 
to  want  things." 


HOW   THE  MIDDIES  SET   UP  SHOP.      173 

"  Especially  at  Christmas,"  said  Aunt  Thankful. 
"  "Would  n't  Thanksgiving  be  a  good  time  to  divide  ?  You 
see  you  are  coming  to  spend  that  with  me  at  the  Ever 
greens,"  she  added,  in  a  quite  degage  way ;  "  and  we 
could  talk  it  all  over  then,  and  the  Christmas  plans  be 
side." 

For  an  instant  the  Middies  were  mute,  staring.  Then 
the  acclamation  broke  forth,  Aunt  Thankful  innocently 
nibbling  on,  until  the  nibbling  became  a  danger  of  chok 
ing,  under  the  sudden  hugs  and  capers  of  Frost  Brothers, 
whose  sober  business  partnership  suffered  momentary  dis 
solution  into  one  of  ecstatic  surprise  and  simple  little-boy- 
jollification. 

"  Who  said  that  ?  "  asked  Middy  Number  Two,  sub 
siding,  and  doubtful  of  so  much  blessedness  being  con 
sented  to  and  settled. 

"  /  said  it,  to  mamma  Laura,  last  night."  And  Mrs. 
Shatoraine  put  the  last  bit  of  her  Gibraltar  between  her 
pretty  teeth,  with  the  air  of  one  accustomed  nowadays  to 
get  her  way,  and  eat  the  sweets  of  life,  without  dispute. 

"  Stick  to  it,  won't  you,  Aunt  Thankye  ?  "  cried  Algie. 
"  Stick  to  it,  like  a  brick  —  and  mortar !  —  But  "  —  he 
added,  suddenly  bethinking —  "  the  Thanksgiving  trade  !  " 

'•  Oh,  that  '11  be  over,"  said  Mrs.  Shatoraine  ,  "  and  all 
the  good  people  baking  their  last  pies  and  stuffing  their 
turkeys.  You  're  not  to  leave  till  Wednesday  ;  and  you  're 
to  stay  till  Monday." 

"  You  've  said  all  that,  and  not  been  contradicted  ?  " 

"  Every  bit ;  and  not  a  word,"  answered  Mrs.  Shato 
raine,  categorically. 

In  fact,  it  had  all  been  put  through  both  houses  of 
Domestic  Congress,  and  passed  without  a  veto.  Aunt 
Thankful  had  been  planning  it  for  some  time  in  her  mind, 
and  had  asked  it  right  off  on  the  enthusiasm  of  arrival 


174  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

and  privilege  of  welcome,  as  she  knew  how  to  ask  things. 
Mrs.  Laura  had  as  good  as  yielded  overnight,  and  had 
presented  the  idea  to  her  husband  in  the  morning.  He 
had  pronounced  at  once  that  it  would  be  just  the  thing 
for  the  little  fellows,  who,  each  in  his  different  way, 
would  be  the  better  for  a  brief  change. 

And  the  month's  time  they  had  to  think  of  it  in,  and 
make  plans  for  it,  and  say  daily  to  each  other  how  jolly  it 
would  be  —  especially  the  journey  on  their  own  respon 
sibility  —  was  by  no  means  the  least  part  of  the  pleasure 
and  benefit. 

"  We  must  leave  the  shop  open  Wednesday,  anyhow," 
said  Algernon.  "  Everybody  '11  be  forgetting  lots  of 
things  till  they  come  to  the  last  spicings  and  stuffings. 
Who  '11  sell  for  us  ?  " 

"Win  Trupeare,"  said  Sidney. 

And  so  Win  Trupeare  did;  with  Rob  Casawarie  to 
help  him  ;  and  they  shut  up  shop  at  four  in  the  afternoon, 
returning  key  and  till  and  memorandum  of  sales  to  Mrs. 
Frost ;  and  the  memorandum  was  duly  forwarded  to  Nor- 
chester  according  to  arrangement,  so  that  the  boys  got  it 
on  Friday  at  the  Evergreens  ;  making  out  the  full  re 
turn  of  their  fall  trade,  up  to  the  lull  that  was  sure  to 
come  between  Thanksgiving  and  Christmas.  So  they  sat 
down  by  the  beautiful  big  library  fire,  and  talked  it  all 
over  with  Mrs.  Shatoraine. 

"  We  've  made  fifteen  dollars  and  sixty  cents,  counting 
everything,"  said  Algernon.  "  The  butternut-maple  was 
clear  profit,  you  know  ;  and  the  syrup  's  all  sold ;  and  our 
peanut  candy  and  cornballs  have  gone  first-rate.  Yes  — 
we  've  got  that,  net !  " 

"  How  much  do  you  each  expect  to  draw,  regularly, 
as  income  or  salary  ?  " 

Algernon  considered.     Sidney   sat  by,   listening.     He 


HOW   THE  MIDDIES  SET   UP  SHOP.      175 

was  not  the  financier  of  the  firm.  And  Algie  himself 
had  not  thought  to  a  decision  on  these  points,  yet.  They 
had  thus  far  been  content  to  put  in,  for  the  most  part. 
Their  weekly  allowances  had  given  the  most  pleasure  in 
this  way. 

"  If  we  are  to  have  our  ten  cents  a  week  —  both  of  us 

—  it  would  take  pretty  near  half  the  average  profit.     We 
sha'n't   always  have  Shaker  windfalls,  or  Thanksgiving 
trade,  you  know." 

"  Well,  then,  say  five,"  said  Sidney. 

"  We  can  put  it  in  again  if  we  want  to." 

"  Of  course,"  said  Aunt  Thankful.  "  But  it  repre 
sents  what  grown-up  business  men  have  to  take  out  to  sup 
port  their  families.  You  must  think  what  you  are  pretty 
sure  to  need,  one  way  or  another,  and  allow  that." 

"  Well,  say  five  cents  a  week,"  said  Algernon.  "  That 's 

—  ten  times  twenty-three  weeks  —  two  dollars  and  thirty 
cents  out." 

"  Leaving  thirteen  dollars  and  thirty  cents." 

"  Yes." 

"  Now,  how  much  capital  do  you  mean  to  keep  in  your 
business  —  represented  by  stock  on  hand  ?  How  much 
have  you  in  stock  now  ?  " 

Algernon  referred  to  his  papers. 

''  We  're  pretty  well  sold  out,  now,"  he  said.  "  Have  n't 
but  about  three  and  a  quarter,  I  guess." 

"  Suppose  you  say  five  dollars,  then  ?  " 

"  All  right.  That  takes  one-seventy-five  to  make  it 
out." 

"  Leaving  eleven-fifty-five.  Now  you  can  either  divide 
that  profit  or  increase  your  business  with  it." 

"  We  can't  do  much  more,  I  guess,  than  five  dollars' 
worth  will  keep  going.  And  here  's  Christmas.  Only  — 
that 's  a  good  time  to  sell,  too  !  " 


176  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

"  Suppose  you  put  in  five-fifty-five  for  Christmas  stock, 
then  ?  that  will  leave  six  dollars  to  divide." 

"  All  right.  And  some  Christmas  things  will  come  out 
of  the  shop,  at  the  time,  if  we  like." 

"Exactly.  Now,  one  more  thing.  Have  you  ever 
thought  of  the  '  tithe  '  ?  " 

"What's  that?" 

"  The  tenth  part  of  the  increase ;  that  the  old  Hebrews, 
and  Christians  since,  have  given  back  —  somehow  —  to 
the  Lord." 

"How?" 

"  To  the  priests  —  and  the  preachers  —  in  the  first 
place ;  so  that  there  might  always  be  priests  or  preachers 
to  feed  the  people  with  the  truth,  and  make  that  to  in 
crease  in  the  earth." 

"  Is  that  what  they  put  into  the  plate  at  church  ?  "  asked 
Sidney.  "And  must  we  put  in  a  tenth  of  ours?  "  asked 
Algernon. 

"  Some  people  might  tell  you  so.  But  I  should  n't  say 
exactly  that.  For  one  thing,  your  father,  as  the  head  of 
a  family,  and  as  a  grown,  responsible,  property-holding  or 
property-earning  man  —  does  his  share ;  as  you  will  do 
yours  when  you  take  your  place  as  a  man  among  respon 
sibilities.  But  even  so,  things  are  different,  I  think,  from 
what  they  used  to  be  when  tithes  were  the  law.  Then, 
the  clergymen  were  not  only  the  preachers,  but  the  alms- 
dispensers,  and  the  physicians  ;  charities  and  healing  were 
done  through  them.  Now,  there  are  other  ways ;  work 
and  needs  that  must  be  met  by  individual  men  and  their 
consciences.  Besides,  in  the  old  Jew-tithes  themselves, 
out  of  the  tenth  —  the  universal  contribution  —  that  was 
paid  to  the  Levites,  whose  business  was  to  minister  gener 
ally,  a  tenth  of  that  again  was  all  that  was  given  to  the 
priests  —  the  altar  ministers.  So  I  think  we  might,  some- 


HOW  THE  MIDDIES  SET   UP  SHOP.      177 

times,  out  of  our  tenths,  give  a  tenth-tenth  —  or  hundredth 
—  to  the  parish  plate,  provided  we  know  good  and  urgent 
use,  in  the  way  of  personal  help  to  others,  to  which  we  are 
specially  called,  for  our  nine  other  parts  of  the  tithe. 
And  provided,  too,  that  we  do  not  forget  about  the  '  first- 
fruits,'  and  the  '  free-will,'  and  the  '  thank-offerings,'  ac 
cording  to  our  opportunities.  But  that  is  my  way  of 
reckoning.  I  am  only  sure  of  one  thing  —  that  the  Lord 
wants  as  much,  at  least,  as  the  tenth  of  all  our  power  — 
our  time,  and  thought,  and  sympathy  —  as  well  as  of  our 
money ;  and  that  while  we  do  one  thing,  we  are  not  to 
leave  the  other  undone.  —  Now  that  is  long  enough  for  a 
sermon  ;  I  've  only  preached  it  because  it  is  thank-giving, 
and  thank-offering,  time." 

"And  I  say  it's  good,"  answered  Algernon,  thought 
fully.  After  which,  he  sat  silent  a  minute  or  two.  When 
he  began  again,  it  was  to  say : 

"  I  think  we  ought  to  begin  at  the  eleven-fifty-five." 

"  As  the  increase  ?  " 

"  Yes.  The  six  dollars  is  only  what  we  have  left  after 
we  have  put  in  all  we  want  to  make  more  money  with." 

"  I  think  you  're  right." 

"  A  tenth  of  that  is  a  dollar  fifteen  cents  and  a  half ; 
say,  a  dollar  and  twenty.  Look  here  !  our  capital 's  made 
up  of  increase,  any  way.  We  did  n't  have  five  dollars  to 
start  on." 

"  Very  true." 

"  We  've  got  to  go  back  to  the  thirteen-thirty."  Algie 
had  pencil  and  paper  in  hand,  and  the  fresh  calculations 
were  before  him. 

"  If  you  think  so." 

"  A  tenth  of  that,  then,  is  a  dollar  and  thirty-three. 
And  the  tenth-tenth  is  thirteen  cents  and  three  mills.  Say 
fourteen  cents  —  seven  apiece  —  for  the  contribution. 
There  's  a  dollar  nineteen  for  somebody.  Who  ?  " 


178  HOMESPUN  YARNS. 

"  I  know  of  somebody  whom  a  dollar-nineteen  —  or  a 
dollar  —  would  set  up  in  business." 

"A  boy?" 

"  Yes.  Here  in  Norchester.  Simmy  Fame  ;  whose  fa 
ther  was  a  brakeman,  killed  on  the  railroad.  He  wants 
to  sell  morning  papers  round  here,  at  people's  houses,  be 
fore  the  gentlemen  get  to  the  post-office  and  the  station. 
The  railroad  people  would  bring  them  out  to  him  on  the 
six  o'clock  train.  And  if  he  had  a  little  capital,  he  could 
peddle  other  things  —  such  as  people  come  to  your  store 
for.  He  's  a  bright  boy  ;  he  would  know  how  to  '  suit  the 
market.' " 

"  Good  for  you,  Aunt  Thankye  !  that 's  jolly-good  !  I  'd 
like  to  set  another  boy  up.  The  dollar-nineteen  belongs 
to  him  ;  don't  it,  Sid  ?  " 

Aunt  Thankful  leaned  over,  as  if  to  look  at  the  penciled 
memorandum.  Doing  so,  she  let  her  arm  fall  gently 
across  Algie's  shoulders.  Algie  was  too  old  —  too  manly 
—  to  be  kissed  and  praised.  She  only  said  : 

"  You  've  found  another  principle  of  business.  Setting 
your  own  increase  to  the  increase  of  ways  and  work  for 
others.  But  I  think  Simmy  Fame  will  soon  be  able  to 
pay  you  back.  He  will  only  want  it  as  a  loan ;  which  is 
the  best  way." 

Algie  looked  a  bit  disappointed  at  first.  Then  he 
brightened,  and  said : 

"  Well,  it  '11  only  come  back  to  get  another  with  it, 
maybe,  and  start  round  again,  somehow." 

"  As  the  rain  does,"  said  Aunt  Thankful. 

Now,  we  must  say  good-by,  for  the  present  at  any  rate, 
to  our  Middies.  We  leave  them  in  a  clear  decision  as  to 
the  final  principle  of  their  business  life  —  the  righteous 
disposal  of  the  increase.  If  it  ever  puzzles  business  men, 


HOW  THE   MIDDIES  SET   UP  SHOP.     179 

I  think  it  must  be  only  because  they  have  lost  the  faculty 
for  seeing  things  as  "  the  children  "  see  them.  I  do  not 
think  Algernon  Frost  will  find  himself  in  the  dark,  if  he 
should  live  to  be  fifty  years  old,  and  to  handle  millions. 
For  it  has  been  surely  said  that  he  who  has  been  faithful 
over  small  things  will  be  fit  to  be  ruler  over  many  things ; 
and  shall  be  made  ruler  over  them. 

Possibly  —  for  all  things  are  possible,  though  all  things 
are  not  promised  that  are  possible  —  we  may  sometime 
look  in  together  at  the  Olive-colored  House  again. 


THE   LITTLE    SAVAGES  OF  BEETLE 
KOCK. 

THEY  were  not  Red  Indians.  They  were  only  the  two 
children  of  Mr.  Cyrus  Savage,  farmer,  who  lived  away 
up  in  one  of  the  middle  counties  of  Maine.  They  were 
eleven  and  a  half,  and  ten  years  old ;  girl  and  boy ; 
names,  Catharyne  and  Luther.  Catharyne  was  spelt  with 
an  "  i ;  "  but  it  was  pronounced  with  a  "  y  ;  "  and  as  it  was 
seldom  spelt,  and  often  pronounced,  and  that  with  a  long 
leaning  or  a  smart  emphasis,  I  decide  to  spell  it  as  it  was 
spoken. 

They  were  not  christened  in  honor  of  the  great  Prot 
estant  reformer  and  his  wife  ;  I  don't  think  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Savage  knew  much  about  them  j  though  distantly,  no 
doubt,  through  old  Puritan  usage,  the  boy's  name  had 
come  down  to  him  from  the  monk  of  Wittenberg,  in  about 
the  same  sense  that  Adam's  sin  had  reached  him  from 
Eden. 

In  the  middle  of  the  Savage  farm  that  had  been  in  the 
family  for  generations  ran  a  quick  little  riverlet.  I  do 
not  misspell  that  word  either.  A  rivulet  is  but  a  trickle  ; 
a  brook  is  not  big  enough  for  what  I  mean.  It  was  al 
most  a  river,  of  consequence  enough  to  be  put  on  the  map ; 
but  as  it  never  was,  and  was  only  called  Moosewood  Run 
until  it  found  the  Penobscot,  I  say  it  was  a  riverlet.  In 
the  middle  of  this  stream  reared  up  Beetle  Rock,  a  roof- 
like  ridge  of  cleft  and  jagged  stone,  at  top ;  a  precipice, 
clean  and  straight,  on  the  north  side  ;  on  the  south,  a  grad 
ual  fall  of  broken  slopes  and  shelves,  on  one  of  which, 


THE  LITTLE  SAVAGES  OF  BEETLE  ROCK.  181 

near  the  base,  the  farmhouse  stood,  bright  red  against  the 
gray  and  green.  Put  there  because  that  was  the  only 
bit  upon  the  property  where  nothing  could  be  raised  but  a 
house. 

The  Savages  had  a  few  books ;  some  old  novels  that 
were  "  Grandma's  "  in  her  youth ;  two  or  three  "  poetry 
books  ;  "  the  children's  Readers  and  Arithmetics  ;  and  a 
stray  half  do/en  of  modern  stories  and  pamphlets,  sent 
within  a  year  or  two  by  some  Portland  cousins  when  they 
had  happened  to  think  of  the  young  folks  growing  up  on 
Beetle  Rock. 

Catharyne  read  these  books  out  loud,  over  and  over,  to 
Luther,  as  they  sat  in  their  "pulpit,"  a  great  roomy  hol 
low  in  the  very  crest  and  between  what  people  called  the 
"  horns  "  of  the  "  Beetle-head  ;  "  overlooking  from  behind 
high,  rough  parapets,  safely  as  from  tower  windows,  a 
splendid  view  of  hills  and  meadows. 

Lately,  they  had  got  hold  of  Jules  Verne's  "  Mysteri 
ous  Island,"  a  wonderful,  intensified  and  "  progressed  " 
"  Family  Robinson  ;  "  the  Swiss  pastor's  story  having  been 
the  familiar  of  their  first  hardest  spelling,  and  their  con 
tinued  and  tireless  delight. 

They  had  not  so  much  to  wish  —  for  or  away  —  as  or 
dinary  children  who  take  the  Crusoe-craving. 

"  'Cause  we  're  on  an  island  now,"  said  Catharyne. 

"  If  't  wa'n't  for  the  old  bridges,"  said  Luther,  with  con 
tempt.  "  Swiss  Family  did  n't  have  a  bridge  to  land  both 
ways,  with  board  gates  on  the  ends  to  keep  the  chickens 
in  and  the  skunks  out !  " 

"  Well,**the  old  castles  had  bridges,  and  gates.  Let 's 
play  it 's  an  old  castle." 

"  Hugh  !  With  ma  hangin'  out  clo'es  on  the  door-flat, 
an'  Cale  Spellick  carryin'  the  swill-pail  over-east  to  the 
barns,  an'  nobody  else  here  but  jest  you  an'  me  !  There 


182  HOMESPUN  YARNS. 

ain't  any  old  castle  nor  yet  mysterious  island  about 
that ! " 

"  There  ain't  any  about  a  bundle  of  printed  leaves, 
either,"  said  Catharyne,  tossing  over  the  curled  and  tum 
bled  sheets  of  the  newspaper  edition  of  Jules  Verne. 
"  You  have  to  make  believe,  anyway.  If  you  want  it  all 
real,  you  '11  have  to  go  to  sea  and  get  shipwrecked." 

"  Well,  that 's  what  I  mean  to  do,"  said  Luther,  stoutly. 
At  which  Catharyne  got  frightened  in  her  conscience  at 
having  put  it  in  his  head,  and  said  pacifyingly  : 

"  We  can  play  it  when  ma  ain't  here,  and  there  ain't 
any  washing  nor  swill,  and  there  won't  be  next  week  when 
pa  and  she  go  to  Uncle  Mark's.  Cale  Spellick's  wife  is 
going  to  make  cheese  and  take  all  the  milk ;  and  you  and 
I  and  Miss  Rebecca  won't  make  any  swill  —  to  notice." 

"  Poh !  Cale  '11  be  round  and  the  pigs  '11  be  fed,  all  the 
same ;  'an  Miss  Rebecca  '11  jest  spoil  the  whole !  Why 
can't  she  stay  at  home  an'  leave  us  to  ourselves  ?  It 
might  be  something,  with  only  you  an'  me,  an'  the  cats  an' 
the  hens,  an'  Rover  !  " 

"  We  need  n't  see  her  much.  She  '11  be  sewing  in  the 
east  room  when  she  ain't  getting  the  victuals.  I  s'pose  I 
shall  have  to  wipe  dishes,"  Catharyne  admitted,  with  some 
ruefulness. 

"  An'  I  shall  have  to  pick  up  chips.  An'  we  shall  have 
to  eat  meals,  an'  go  to  bed,  an'  mind!  So,  there  ain't 
any  desert  island  about  it,  an'  you  can't  make  any  !  " 

"  Well,  we  '11  see,"  said  Catharyne,  quoting  her  mother. 
"  'T  ain't  Monday  yet ;  and  there  's  time  for  consid'able 
to  happen."  Catharyne's  chief  mission  and  anxiety,  in 
those  days,  was  the  truly  feminine  one  of  endeavoring 
continually  to  persuade  her  own  little  malcontent  mascu 
line  that  his  bit  of  life  was  worth  the  living.  And  it  never 
occurred  to  her,  any  more  than  it  does  to  some  of  her  el 
ders,  to  throw  up  the  responsibility. 


THE  LITTLE  SAVAGES  OF  BEETLE  ROCK.  183 

On  Monday,  bright  and  early,  the  country  wagon  was 
at  the  door ;  its  one  broad,  low-backed  seat  covered  with 
a  brown  bearskin,  and  the  portmanteau  and  luncheon-bas 
ket  comfortably  stowed  beneath.  Behind  was  a  folded 
blanket  for  the  children  to  sit  on,  and  their  little  bundles, 
in  checked  wraps,  were  already  in  ;  for  "  consid'able  "  had 
happened,  as  Catharyne  foretold,  and  it  had  ended  that 
she  and  Luther  were  to  ride  as  far  as  the  foot  of  Biram's 
Hill  with  their  father  and  mother,  and  then  trot  up  with 
their  bundles  to  Miss  Rebecca's  house,  where  they  were  to 
stay  during  the  three  or  four  days  of  their  parents'  ab 
sence.  Once  in  two  years,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Savage  made 
this  visit  to  Uncle  Mark's,  over  in  Peru ;  and  in  the  alter 
nate  years  Uncle  Mark  and  Aunt  Myra  came  to  Beetle 
Rock.  It  was  pleasant  fall  weather,  between  the  early 
and  late  harvestings ;  the  time  generally  chosen  for  these 
trips. 

Miss  Rebecca  Biram  had  sent  word  on  Friday  that  her 
sister  Lucy  had  a  nice  chance  to  go  to  Bangor,  and  she 
could  n't  bear  to  disappoint  her  ;  and  that  it  would  n't  do 
to  leave  the  old  lady  alone  with  her  rheumatism ;  so  she 
wanted  the  children  to  come  and  pass  the  time  with  her 
instead  of  herself  taking  charge  at  the  Savage  farmhouse. 
Mrs.  Savage  had  replied  that  unless  they  concluded  to 
leave  them  with  the  Spellicks,  closer  by,  they  should  come 
along  on  Monday.  If  they  did  n't,  she  would  know  the 
reason.  And  then  it  turned  out  that  Gale  Spellick  came 
in  on  Sunday  night  to  say  that  Hannermatildy  was  just 
coming  down  with  something  that  might  be  the  measles ; 
and  so  it  was  settled  in  favor  of  Miss  Biram's  plan.  Be 
tween  these  two  alternatives,  as  between  two  right-angled 
forces,  it  came  to  pass  that  a  diagonal  was  taken  by  the 
children  themselves. 

It  was  in  both  their  heads  before  they  started.     Catha- 


184  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

ryne  was  eager  to  try  housekeeping  on  her  own  account ; 
for  she  had  begun  to  feel  herself  too  old  to  have  Miss  Re 
becca  called  in  when  her  mother  went  away  ;  and  Luther 
was  possessed  with  the  mysterious  island  idea,  and  the 
longing  to  shipwreck  himself  ;  so  far,  at  least,  as  detach 
ing  himself  from  all  grown-up  aid  and  comfort,  and  mak 
ing  a  Juan  Fernandez  or  a  Fortune  Island  of  his  home, 
which  it  was  his  good  luck  should  be  a  water-washed  cliff, 
all  ready  to  his  hand.  It  was  just  as  good,  he  reasoned, 
that  "  the  folks  "  should  go  away  and  leave  Beetle  Rock 
to  them,  especially  if  they  did  n't  know  it,  as  that  they 
themselves  should  run  off  and  get  cast  away  on  some  other 
rock.  Or,  if  not  quite  so  real  a  thing,  they  could  make  it 
do,  seeing  that  this  was  their  present  chance,  and  not  the 
other. 

It  was  in  both  their  heads  ;  but  they  could  not  make  a 
deliberate  conspiracy  of  it,  and  agree  to  carry  out  the  pre 
tense  with  their  father  and  mother  of  the  Monday  morn 
ing  setting  off  and  being  left  at  Biram's  Hill.  They 
could  not  so  have  played  the  hypocrite  before  each  other's 
honest  little  faces.  So  they  did  not  even  resolve  ;  but  let 
themselves  think  only  how  nice  it  would  be.  Which  is  the 
first  step,  always,  to  any  conspiracy  or  iniquity  whatever. 

They  took  their  little  checked  bundles  in  their  hands, 
and  said  good-by,  and  stood  in  the  dusty  wheel-ruts,  watch 
ing  the  wagon  as  it  dropped  from  sight  over  the  first  long 
dip  and  water-bar  of  the  steep  road  beyond ;  for  Biram's 
Hill  was  a  long  spur,  which  the  highway  crossed  low 
down,  although  over  a  sharp  ridge,  high  up  on  which,  to 
the  left,  above  a  thick  maple  grove,  stood  the  dwelling; 
and  deep  to  the  right  lay  the  hollow  of  Moosewood  Run, 
half  a  mile  away. 

They  began  to  walk  up  under  the  maples,  crossing  two 
water-bars  before  they  spoke.  Then  they  stopped  short, 


THE  LITTLE  SAVAGES  OF  BEETLE  ROCK.  185 

partly  to  rest,  and  partly  because  each  was  longing,  and 
but  half  daring,  to  say  something.  Luther  sat  down  on 
a  stone  and  took  a  bit  of  gravel  out  of  his  shoe.  Then 
he  picked  up  a  stick  and  began  to  switch  off  the  heads  of 
the  golden-rods  that  grew  thick  about  him.  A  quick, 
rumbling  noise  sounded  in  the  hollow. 

"  That 's  over  Alden's  Bridge,"  said  Luther.  "  We 
could  go  home  that  way,  any  time.  It 's  only  down 
through  the  orchard  and  the  medder  mowin'  to  the  cross 
road." 

"  I  wish  ma  had  left  us  at  home,  and  we  had  n't  got  to 
come  here  at  all,"  said  Catharyne. 

"  I  know  what  you  're  thinkin'  about !  "  said  Luther, 
looking  up  at  her  sharply,  and  trying  not  to  laugh. 

"  '  Cause  you  're  thinkin'  of  it  too  !  Miss  Rebecca  don't 
know  we  're  coming.  If  it  wa'n't  a  kind  of  playin'  tru 
ant,  we  might  go  home  and  spend  the  day,  and  see  how  it 
would  seem,  all  alone.  I  'd  make  turnovers." 

"Poh!  Who  ever  heard  of  turnovers  the  first  thing? 
They  always  find  turtles'  eggs,  and  lobsters,  and  —  and  — 
cocoanuts." 

"  They  don't  say  what  they  '11  find  beforehand.  They 
find  what  there  is  there.  And  we  'd  have  to.  There  's 
bantams'  eggs.  And  they  always  have  some  kind  of  a 
wreck  to  go  to.  We  'd  have  the  house." 

Tiiither  looked  dubious.  He  was  afraid  his  sister  would 
get  too  much  out  of  the  wreck.  He  wanted  a  real,  wild, 
desert-island  play  ;  and  he  suspected  the  truth  that  Cath 
aryne  would  rather  make  believe  at  civilized  housekeep 
ing.  Only  cocoanuts  did  not  grow  on  Beetle  Rock, —  nor 
much  of  anything  else,  except  lichens  and  a  few  cedars, 
and  two  great  white  pines  that  made  a  pleasant  spicy 
shade. 

"  We  could  get  in  at  the  back  buttery  window,"  said 
Luther. 


186  HOMESPUN  YARNS. 

11  Yes  ;  but  the  kitchen  door  would  be  hooked." 

"  Goody  !  "  cried  Luther.  "  The  butt  is  all  we  want." 
He  had  never  heard  of  the  Scotch  "  but  and  ben  ;  "  he 
only  stumbled  on  precisely  what  he  meant.  He  did  not 
wish  that  Catharyne  should  find  it  possible  to  go  "  ben  " 
the  house,  and  live  anything  like  parlor-fashion. 

While  they  talked,  they  had  crossed  the  broken  wall, 
and  were  walking  down  the  orchard  and  through  the 
stubbly  mowing. 

"  Where  should  we  sleep  ?  "  asked  Catharyne. 

"  There 's  corn-husks  in  the  shed-chamber,"  said  Lu 
ther.  It  was  settling  itself,  as  many  grown-up  plans  do, 
in  the  talking  over.  The  shoulds  and  woulds  turn  into 
the  wills  and  shalls,  by  the  mere  considering. 

They  went  over  Alden's  Bridge,  and  came  into  the 
"near  wood-lot."  Beyond  this,  along  the  Run,  lay  the 
east  pasture,  which  was  the  land  on  the  side  opposite  to 
that  upon  which  they  had  left  it  by  the  road  toward  Bi- 
ram's  Hill.  They  came  round  cautiously ;  heard  Gale 
Spellick  calling  to  his  oxen  down  by  the  Pine  Bend,  on  the 
west  bank,  and  slipped  unseen  across  the  bridge  from  the 
barns  to  the  farmhouse.  It  was  getting  late;  the  fore 
noon  had  well  worn  on ;  they  were  beginning  to  be  hun 
gry,  after  their  early  breakfast,  their  ride,  and  their  long 
walk. 

The  house  looked  very  still  and  lonesome,  with  shut 
doors  and  blinds.  The  lazy  craw-craw  of  the  hens,  walk 
ing  about  the  door-flat  with  high,  slow,  curving  steps,  as 
if  they  lifted  their  feet  over  a  log  every  time,  only  added 
to  the  repose  and  the  stillness. 

"  Well,"  said  Luther,  as  they  came  round  between  the 
blank  rock  behind  and  the  buttery  window,  "  we  're  cast 
ashore.  And  we  've  got  to  live  round  here,  out  of  sight ; 
'cause  those  bridges  look  as  if  savages  went  back  and 
forth  over  that  end  of  the  island." 


THE  LITTLE  SAVAGES  OF  BEETLE  ROCK.  187 

"  So  they  do,"  answered  Catharyne,  simply  assenting. 
Rut  Luther  took  her  up  for  what  had  occurred  to  himself 
as  he  spoke. 

"  I  did  n't  mean  that,"  he  said,  impatiently.  "  You 
don't  make  believe  worth  a  cent,  Ryne.  You  ain't  to  know 
anything.  We  Ve  just  got  to  guess,  and  to  look  out." 

"  I  said  it  looked  so,"  explained  Ryne. 

"  Oh !  "  apologized  Luther.  "  I  hope  the  buttery  shutter 
is  n't  fastened." 

"  How  do  you  know  it 's  a  buttery  ?  And  if  it  is,  you 
can  poke  the  hook  with  a  stick." 

Luther  accepted  the  suggestion  of  the  second  sentence, 
disregarding  tli3  retort  of  the  first.  A  flat  chip  passed 
easily  behind  the  warped  board  of  the  rough  shutter,  and 
lifted  the  iron  hook  from  the  staple.  They  raised  the 
sash,  and  climbed  in  over  a  broad  shelf. 

"  People  have  been  here,  sometime,"  suggested  Ryne. 
"  And  left  these  things.  I  'm  glad  there  are  some  tin 
pans." 

"  And  this  is  a  good  hut,"  said  Luther,  approving  and 
consenting  to  the  myth.  "  But  I  'm  glad  there  is  n't  any 
more  of  it." 

Ryne  looked  into  a  stone  jar. 

"  I  thought  there  might  be  some  doughnuts  here,"  she 
said. 

"  You  're  thinking  a  great  deal  too  fast,"  rebuked  Lu 
ther. 

"  Only  because  folks  do  keep  doughnuts  in  stone  pots." 

"  Doughnuts  !  These  folks  have  been  gone  years  and 
years !  " 

They  might  have  been,  for  anything  of  cookery  left  be 
hind  to  spoil,  by  the  thrifty  housewife. 

"  I  thought  the  house  was  the  wreck,"  said  Catharyne, 
"  and  we  'd  got  to  find  things  in  it." 


188  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

"  Well,  it  ain't.  It 's  a  hut.  And  if  we  find  anything 
from  a  wreck,  it 's  got  to  be  along  on  the  rocks  by  the 
water." 

"  I  guess  we  'd  better  go  and  look,  then,"  said  Catha- 
ryne  ;  "  for  I  'm  getting  awful  hungry  ;  "  and  as  she  spoke, 
there  was  a  sound  of  rustling  paper. 

"  You  go  first,"  said  Luther,  from  the  shed-room  within. 
"  I  '11  come  presently.  I  'm  going  to  explore  up  this  lad 
der." 

"  Oh  Luther  !     There 's  "  — 

"  Hush  up  !     There  ain't.     Not  as  you  know  of." 

"  Must  I  get  out  of  the  window,  or  can  I  go  through 
the  shed-door  ?  " 

"  If  there  's  a  door,  you  'd  be  a  goose  not  to  go  through 
that." 

"  Well,  I  've  found  one,"  said  Ryne,  comfortably,  as  Lu 
ther  disappeared  overhead  through  the  trap. 

Luther  did  not  arrive  until  ten  minutes  afterward  at  the 
base  of  the  high,  straight  face  of  the  great  crag.  He 
found  his  sister  settled  among  the  bowlder  stones,  with 
a  paper  bag  of  crackers,  and  a  big  corner  of  cheese. 
"  There  were  these  washed  ashore,"  she  said,  calmly  offer 
ing  him  some,  crisp  and  fresh  out  of  the  rattling  pack 
age.  "  If  you  don't  think,  Luther,"  she  added,  timidly, 
"  that  we  're  telling  too  big  "  — 

"  We  ain't  telling  anything.  It 's  telling  itself.  It 's  a 
story.  And  a  story  has  to  be  —  a  kind  of  t'other. 
T'other 's  always  'a  story,  you  know.  But  come  round 
here,  and  see  what  I  've  got.  I  Ve  stowed  it  away  behind 
the  rocks." 

Ryne  stepped  round,  and  saw,  rolled  up  into  a  cranny, 
a  cylindrical  tin  case ;  which  she  carefully  pretended  not 
to  recognize. 

"  That 's  something  like  a  thing  from  a  wreck !  "  Luther 


THE  LITTLE  SAVAGES  OF  BEETLE  ROCK.  189 

exulted.  "  None  of  your  paper  bags.  I  'm  going  to  open 
it  with  my  knife." 

"  Perhaps  it 's  gunpowder,"  suggested  Ryne,  with  an 
excessive  loyalty  to  fiction ;  and  looked  on  intently,  while 
he  loosened  the  rim  of  the  cover. 

"  It 's  good,  prime  sugar,"  said  Luther,  dipping  in  and 
bringing  up  some  on  the  knife-blade.  "  Maple  sugar,  and 
half  full !  And  the  next  thing  I  find  is  going  to  be  — 
what  goes  good  with  maple  sugar  !  " 

He  could  not  resist  the  full  glory  at  once,  though  he 
could  "  find  "  only  one  thing  well  at  a  time.  Ryne  stayed 
on  the  "  beach,"  as  he  bade  her ;  and  in  ten  minutes  more 
he  was  round  the  jut  again  dragging  a  bag  of  butternuts. 
They  made  a  fine  dinner,  with  their  biscuits  and  new  sage 
cheese,  and  their  nuts,  cracked  upon  the  stones,  and  the 
meats  mixed  with  the  soft,  scraped  sugar.  How  it  would 
do  for  tea  and  breakfast  and  dinner  again,  remained  for 
them  to  try. 

"  I  've  concluded,"  said  Luther,  with  the  air  of  a  Father 
Family  Robinson,  as  he  also  concluded  his  butternuts, 
"  that  we  ain't  on  the  real  island  at  all.  This  is  a  rock  in 
the  mouth  of  the  river,  and  the  big  island  is  each  side  of 
us.  If  it  was  n't  that  savages  must  have  made  those 
bridges,  and  we  might  meet  'em,  the  best  thing  would  be 
to  go  over  and  explore.  We  might  find  some  fruit-trees." 

"  Yes.     We  might  get  some  September  sweetings." 

"  What  do  you  name  things  for,  before  you  find  'em  ?  " 
added  Luther,  indignantly.  Ryne  was  like  Mrs.  Flint- 
winch  ;  she  was  always  seeing  something  she  had  no  busi 
ness  to;  and  her  "Jerry  "  was  always  making  her  fling 
her  apron  over  her  face. 

"  Well,"  she  answered  with  feminine  invention,  "  I  can't 
help  thinking  of  things  we  used  to  have  at  home." 

"  That 's  all  right  enough,"  said  Luther,  indulgently. 
"  Baked  sweetings  would  be  good,  would  n't  they  ?  " 


190  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

"  If  you  'd  only  let  me  discover  a  kitchen  and  a  stove," 
pleaded  Ryne. 

"  You  'd  want  to  discover  a  whole  town,  next ;  and  North 
America  ;  besides  making  a  smoke  and  letting  the  savages 
discover  us  ! '' 

"  Why  should  n't  we  want  to  discover  what  there  is 
when  we  can't  do  without  it  ?  " 

"  Because  we  don't  want  other  people's  fixings.  We 
want  to  fix  for  ourselves,"  answered  Luther,  with  all  the 
independence  of  his  namesake,  or  even  of  a  modern 
Radical. 

"  Well,  you  '11  be  glad  enough  to  get  back  to  it,"  said 
Ryne.  "  And  I  don't  believe  you  'd  stay  here  a  minute, 
if  you  did  n't  know  it  was  there  all  the  time,  just  for  turn 
ing  round !  " 

"  I  wish  we  had  Family  Robinson  to  read,  anyway," 
Ryne  began  again.  "  We  shan't  know  what  to  do,  cooped 
up  here."  They  had  gone  back,  now,  into  the  shed,  and 
climbed  to  the  chamber,  and  were  spreading  out  the  corn- 
husks  to  make  a  sleeping-place.  Ryne  pulled  down  a 
dusty  "  comforter  "  that  hung  on  an  old  frame  in  a  far 
corner.  Something  made  her  exclaim  a  little,  suddenly, 
as  she  did  so ;  but  she  checked  herself,  and  Luther  did 
not  notice,  as  he  was  ransacking  among  some  barrels. 

"  Here  's  corn !  "  he  cried.  "  Left  by  the  folks  that 
built  the  hut ;  a  whole  barrel  full." 

"  And  I  believe  my  heart  it 's  pop  corn !  "  said  Ryne, 
coming  over.  u  See  here  !  May  I  discover  anything  I 
please  that  I  really  never  knew  before  ?  " 

"Of  course,"  allowed  the  Autocrat. 

"  Even  if  I  get  at  something  I  did  know  ?  " 

Luther  did  not  want  to  commit  himself  too  far. 

"I  —  think  's  —  likely.  If  you  really  find  'em,  new, 
and  don't  start  after  'em."  Which  was  pretty  liberal  for 
a  Radical. 


THE  LITTLE  SAVAGES  OF  BEETLE  ROCK.  191 

"Well,  you  go  ashore,  and  find  —  bread-fruit,  or  some 
thing  ;  and  I  '11  be  Mother  Robinson,  and  surprise  you 
when  you  come  back.  Like  's  not,  I  've  got  an  Enchanted 
Bag,  too  I  I  've  got  a  bundle,  anyway ;  and  I  'm  going 
on  an  expedition  !  " 

"  Only  don't  you  expedish  any  finding  of  us  out,"  said 
Luther ;  and  he  picked  up  an  old  rusty  hatchet  that  lay 
among  the  barrels,  flung  it  over  his  shoulder  for  effect, 
and  backed  down  the  little  ladder  stairway. 

When  he  came  back,  he  had  eggs  in  his  hat,  and  sweet 
ings,  and  redstreaks,  and  sugar  pears  in  his  pockets. 
Catharyne,  on  her  part,  produced  from  her  bundle  —  the 
checked  bandanna  bundle  that  had  held  her  little  changes 
of  clothing  for  four  days  —  a  tin  spoon,  a  bunch  of 
matches,  a  salt-sprinkler,  two  small  tin  dippers,  and  the 
Swiss  Family  Robinson. 

"  You  've  been  through  that  kitchen-door  !  "  charged 
Luther. 

''  I  haven't,"  said  Catharyne.  "I've  found  a  myste 
rious  passage,  in  the  shed  chamber  —  behind  the  —  arras  ; 
and  it  led  down  to  a  —  subterranean  —  caboose.  I  could 
make  a  fire  there,  and  cook  an  omelette  with  your  eggs." 

"  I  tell  you  the  smoke  'ud  show,"  reiterated  Luther. 
"  Lemme  see  where  you  've  ben." 

Ryne  lifted  up  the  end  of  the  old  comforter  which  she 
had  hung  on  the  frame  again,  and  showed  behind  it  a  lit 
tle  door  formed  by  a  couple  of  boards  that  were  set  on 
hinges  in  the  partition,  and  came  easily  open  by  a  slight 
prying  with  the  fingers,  which  a  projecting  edge  invited. 
Beyond  was  a  large  closet  full  of  boxes,  pillows,  blankets, 
and  bundles  of  sweet  herbs  that  hung  upon  the  walls. 
An  old  cradle  stood  across  their  entrance,  and  a  great  roll 
of  rag  carpet  leaned  up  in  it  against  one  side  of  the  open 
ing.  The  hook  that  had  secured  this  rough  door  on  the 


192  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

inside  had  got  lifted  from  the  staple  in  some  handling  of 
this  same  bundle,  perhaps  ;  at  any  rate,  it  had  not  been 
fastened.  They  climbed  around  and  over,  and  opened  an 
opposite  door,  which  led  into  a  low  bedroom ;  and  down 
from  this  ran  an  open  flight  of  bare,  unbalustered  stairs. 
These  came  out  into  the  dark,  still,  neat  little  kitchen.  Of 
course  the  children  knew  all  these  precincts,  though  they 
had  a  queer  sense,  now,  of  coming  to  them  in  a  dreain. 

"  I  never  knew  in  all  my  life  "  —  began  Luther,  and 
stopped. 

"  The  big  old  meal-chest  used  to  stand "  —  Ryne's 
word  was  interrupted  by  Luther's  hand  across  her  lips. 

"  This  is  Captain  Nemo's  kitchen,"  he  said  seriously. 
"  We  've  got  down  into  the  Nautilus.  It  was  n't  all 
blowed  up,  you  see." 

Ryne  looked  round  at  the  familiar  mops  and  broom, 
hanging  by  the  woodshed  door,  —  at  the  tin  dipper  laid 
across  the  waterpail  on  the  drain-board  of  the  sink,  at  her 
mother's  little  kitchen  rocking-chair,  with  its  red  cushion, 
by  the  garden  window,  and  her  splint  stocking-basket  on 
the  broad  sill,  —  and  felt  something  odd  in  her  heart  or 
her  throat  that  would  not  quite  let  her  swallow  this  last 
figment  with  ease  and  relish. 

"  I  guess  we  'd  better  go  back,"  she  said.  "  I  'd  rather 
make  believe  in  the  shed  chamber." 

They  read  Family  Robinson  awhile,  and  then  the  long 
day  began  to  darken  into  twilight.  They  ate  some  crack 
ers,  apples,  and  pears,  and  lay  down,  tired  enough,  upon 
their  beds  of  husks,  with  pillows  and  blankets  from  the 
clothes-closet,  that  made  them  sufficiently  comfortable  as 
to  outside.  Ryne  cried  before  she  went  to  sleep,  but  very 
softly ;  she  would  not  have  let  Luther  know  it  on  any  ac 
count, —  she  being  the  oldest.  He  would  have  been  sure 
to  say  it  was  because  she  was  only  a  girl. 


THE  LITTLE  SAVAGES  OF  BEETLE  ROCK.  193 

Early  in  the  morning  they  made  a  fire  of  chips  on  the 
"  beach,"  in  an  angle  of  the  great  precipitous  rock,  and 
there  cooked  a  curious  breakfast,  quite  screened  from  view 
at  this  point  by  the  straight  rising  walls  upon  the  shores. 
For  —  and  I  wish  to  make  it  as  clear  to  you  as  I  can  in 
few  words  —  this  island  of  Beetle  Rock  was  like  a  slice 
left  standing  in  a  great  granite  ridge,  by  the  cutting  out 
of  another  slice  upon  each  side  of  it.  In  its  entire  form, 
you  could  see,  if  you  thought  of  it,  that  this  ridge  or  arm 
had  stretched  continuously  from  a  chain  of  hills  to  the 
eastward,  out  hither  to  a  gradual  slope  and  ending ;  but 
at  some  time  or  other  in  the  long  history  of  the  earth,  two 
enormous  rents  had  split  it  through,  and  made  the  double 
channel  of  the  Run ;  leaving  the  .terminal  cliff  upon  the 
west  bank,  and  isolating  in  the  deep,  swift  little  river  the 
middle  fragment  of  Beetle  Rock. 

To  the  north,  or  up  stream,  the  whole  outline  was  pre 
cipitous,  and  overhung  what  were  called  the  Basin  Mead 
ows  ;  to  the  south,  or  down  stream,  it  shelved  rapidly  to 
the  level  of  the  surrounding  country.  If  you  comprehend 
distinctly  this  description,  you  will  better  understand  what 
happened  on  this  Mysterious  Island,  while  Ryne  and  Lu 
ther  played  their  game  of  castaways. 

Catharyne,  with  her  tin  spoon  and  a  large  milk-pan, 
beat  laboriously  some  eight  or  nine  eggs  into  a  coarse 
froth ;  and  then,  forgetting  the  butter  for  the  frying,  set 
her  pan  across  the  stones  between  which  the  coals  were 
heaped.  Part  of  her  large,  flat  omelette  was  very  much 
burned  and  stuck  to  the  pan,  and  part  was  still  quite 
liquid,  when  she  was  forced  to  remove  it  from  the  fire. 
But  they  managed  to  scrape  up  on  their  split  crackers 
enough  to  eat,  and  they  played  they  liked  it.  Ryne  se 
cretly  resolved  that  she  would  do  some  better  cooking  than 
that  before  the  day  was  over ;  and  she  pushed  the  un- 
13 


194  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

happy  pan  under  a  cedar-bush,  saying  that  they  would 
keep  that  now  to  put  all  their  scraps  in,  as  she  was  sure 
she  never  could  clean  all  the  burned  egg  off,  and  should 
not  know  where  to  throw  it  if  she  did. 

Luther  watched  his  chance  to  get  over  the  east  bridge 
and  go  off  into  the  woodland,  "  hunting."  Ryne  was 
glad  to  have  him  go,  that  she  might  carry  out  her  domes 
tic  projects.  They  both  felt  secretly  the  need  of  busying 
themselves  with  all  their  might  to  fight  off  something  that 
could  not  be  homesickness  —  could  it  ?  Because  they 
were  actually  at  home,  all  the  time  ;  and  only  had  to  re 
solve  to  open  a  door  or  two,  to  enter  right  in  among  all 
the  accustomed  belongings. 

Ryne  went  to  work,  therefore,  in  the  buttery,  making 
pies ;  the  crust  with  butter  and  flour,  both  of  which  she 
found  there,  and  used  "  by  guess,"  mixing  with  cold  wa 
ter  ;  the  inside  of  redstreak  apples,  chopped  up  with  ma 
ple  sugar. 

These  were  to  be  a  great  and  wonderful  astonishment 
to  Luther,  but  not  till  the  next  day ;  for  she  had  laid  out 
her  whole  plan  with  due  reference  to  circumstances,  and 
intended  to  get  up  after  Luther  —  and  the  neighbors  also 
—  should  be  asleep,  and  make  a  fire  in  the  kitchen  stove 
for  the  baking,  which  was  to  include  at  the  same  time 
some  of  those  beautiful  big  sweetings.  What  a  break 
fast  they  would  have, —  and  what  a  dinner, —  without  the 
need  of  any  fire  to  get  them  by  !  What  a  manager  she 
was ;  and  how  Luther  would  stare  as  she  brought  out  her 
rich  stores  from  her  pantry  ! 

She  had  to  be  rather  in  a  hurry ;  and  when  all  was 
done,  to  hide  rolling-board  and  pin  behind  the  flour-bar 
rel,  and  carry  the  pies  —  three  of  them  —  up  through  the 
shed  chamber  and  the  clothes-closet,  down  to  the  kitchen ; 
faithful  to  the  stipulation  that  the  ordinary  passage  back 


THE  LITTLE  SAVAGES  OF  BEETLE  ROCK.  195 

and  forth  should  be  ignored.  She  put  them  safely  into 
the  oven,  with  the  sweetings  beside  and  between  them ; 
ready  for  the  heat  when  she  should  supply  it.  She  also 
laid  a  fire  of  chips  and  light  wood,  that  there  might  be  no 
noise  to  make,  and  no  long  work  to  do,  in  the  night-time. 
She  carried  a  kitchen  candlestick  up  into  the  staircase 
bedroom,  and  put  a  match  in  the  tray  of  it.  She  was 
glad  to  see,  as  she  betook  herself,  at  last,  to  her  nest-like 
seat  of  corn-husks  by  the  low  shed-chamber  window,  and 
began  to  read  her  newest  book  of  all, —  "  Eight  Cousins," 
—  that  it  was  raining  a  little,  and  looked  likely  to  keep 
on.  Luther  would  come  home  now ;  the  horn  had  sounded 
for  dinner  at  the  Spellicks'  ;  and  he  would  stay  in  with 
her  this  afternoon. 

He  came,  presently,  bringing  fox  grapes  ;  great  purple 
clusters,  ripened  on  a  bare  south  face  of  rock,  rich  with 
sweet,  wild  flavor.  They  ate,  and  talked,  and  read  ;  then 
they  played  morrice  on  a  chalked  board,  with  corn-ker 
nels,  red  and  white,  for  men.  The  afternoon  wore  away 
with  clouds  and  rain  that  came  up  black,  with  thunder 
and  lightning  now  and  then,  out  of  the  south,  and  gradu 
ally  piled  themselves  away  northward,  leaving  clear 
weather  again.  At  sunset  the  wind  changed  suddenly, 
and  the  great  black  heaps  were  flung  back.  It  was  like  a 
cyclone,  returning  upon  its  circuit  in  a  quick  fierce  gale. 
Leaves  and  twigs  flew  in  the  air ;  there  was  a  roaring  in 
the  pines  and  cedars.  The  elms  out  in  the  meadows  bent 
and  streamed  like  women's  hair  and  garments  in  a  tem 
pest.  Shingles  flew  from  the  barns,  and  the  bright- 
painted  weather-jack  tossed  his  legs  and  arms  in  frantic 
convulsions,  and  was  whirled  away  bodily  over  the  tops  of 
the  trees.  It  lasted  nearly  an  hour  ;  then  everything  was 
calm  again.  No  damage  was  done  near  them ;  but  Gale 
Spellick  was  saying  to  his  wife,  — 


196  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

"  It  was  jest  the  edge  of  a  tornado ;  there  must  hev 
been  a  middle  somewhers." 

Up  at  Bolder's  Mills,  where  the  water  of  Chindecook 
Pond  came  over  into  its  outlet  of  Moosewood  Run,  they 
knew  where  the  middle  had  heen  ;  and  miles  already  down 
the  road  a  man  was  riding  a  running  horse  for  dear  life ; 
shouting  as  he  went  by  the  farmhouses  and  past  the  peo 
ple  on  the  way.  And  as  he  shouted,  the  others  took  it  up  ; 
and  other  men  flung  themselves  on  horses,  and  went  hither 
and  thither  ;  and  the  word  they  cried  was,  —  "  Dam  broke 
at  Bolder's  !  Water  coming  down  !  " 

And  now  the  time  came  for  Catharyne's  baking.  Lu 
ther  fell  asleep  quickly,  stretched  on  the  husks,  after  his 
supper  of  crackers  and  cheese.  So  she  was  early  in  the 
kitchen,  touching  her  match  to  the  wood  in  the  stove ;  and 
she  trusted  to  the  wet  and  the  gray  of  the  weather,  and 
the  deepening  twilight,  to  keep  people  in-doors,  and  her 
little  thread  of  smoke  unnoticed. 

There  began  to  be  a  smell  of  pie-crust,  and  of  apple 
juice  boiling  out  and  simmering  on  the  oven  floor.  Ryne, 
waiting  for  her  cookery  to  be  accomplished,  opened  a  door 
from  the  kitchen  upon  a  narrow  plankway  between  that 
and  the  woodshed  building.  It  was  quite  dusk  now  ;  she 
went  and  stood  on  the  step  at  the  end,  listening  to  the 
rush  of  the  Run,  and  watching  the  stars  as  they  broke 
slowly  through  the  torn  edges  of  used-up  clouds. 

Suddenly,  other  lights  glimmered, —  down  below.  Lan 
terns  moved  along  the  ridge  from  Cale  Spellick's  house  to 
his  barn,  and  from  the  Spellicks  over  to  Parson  Symes's. 
Voices  called,  excitedly ;  everything  happened  in  a  flash 
almost ;  before  she  could  think  or  wonder,  two  men  — 
Cale  and  Hiram  —  were  upon  the  bridge,  rushing  across 
with  great  strides,  one  calling  after  the  other,  —  "  You  take 


THE  LITTLE  SAVAGES  OF  BEETLE  ROCK.  197 

the  horse,  and  make  for  the  Back  Hollow ;  start  up  New- 
al's  folks,  — nobody  else  will.     I  '11  see  to  the  cattle  !  " 

And  the  other  answered,  — "  Drive  'em  up  on  the 
Ridge  !  Old  Beetle-head  '11  stand  !  It  '11  spread  there  in 
the  medder ;  hut  it  '11  gorge  in  the  cuts.  The  house  '11  go, 
or  it 's  a  wonder  !  " 

Nobody  to  stop  for  here  ;  nobody  to  warn.  And  yet  a 
little  girl  stood  listening,  terrified,  to  she  knew  not  what ; 
and  a  boy  lay  asleep  among  the  corn-husks  in  the  old 
shed  chamber.  And  the  dam  was  broke  at  Bokler's,  and 
the  water  was  coming  down  ! 

"  Flood  !  Flood  !  "  Ryne  heard  the  shouts  down  the 
valley-winding  at  the  little  settlement  where  the  river  bent 
round  to  a  short  air  distance  across  the  flats. 

"  Freshet !  Freshet  !  Quit  and  run  !  "  Some  instinct 
helped  her  to  understand,  and  to  remember  also  the  six 
words  of  consequence  to  her  in  Hiram  Spellick's  shout. 
"  Old  Beetle-head  '11  stand  !  The  house  '11  go  !  " 

She  sprang  back  through  the  kitchen ;  unfastened  the 
shed-door  and  flung  it  back  ;  scrambled  with  hands  and 
feet  up  the  steep  step-ladder ;  seized  Luther,  —  by  his 
hair,  —  anyhow. 

"  The  water  's  coming  !  It 's  a  flood  !  Come  up  to  the 
pulpit !  Hurry  !  hurry  !  I  heard  the  men  say  so  !  " 

In  a  dreamy  fright,  not  knowing  flood  from  fire,  she 
dragged  him  up  and  made  him  follow.  He  missed  a  step, 
and  fell  at  the  foot  of  the  ladder.  Ryne  pulled  him  to 
his  feet,  and  out  at  the  shed-door  upon  the  rock  terrace. 

"  Now  be  wide  awake,  Luther,  or  you  '11  fall  and  be 
killed  !  Climb  up,  the  way  we  always  go." 

Something  sounded  like  thunder.  Something  that  rolled 
nearer,  louder,  and  did  not  stop.  A  pale  light  glimmered 
about  them  ;  the  moon  was  rising ;  they  could  see  their 
way  up  the  pebbly  gullies,  and  along  the  splintered  gal- 


198  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

leries,  and  over  the  open  platform,  wide  enough  but  show 
ing  for  nothing  on  the  face  of  the  great  steep  looked  up 
at  from  below. 

They  came  safe  into  the  pulpit.  The  round  moon-lamp 
was  lifted  over  the  hill-line  at  the  east,  and  swinging 
softly  along  the  blue  between  the  whitening  clouds. 

And  the  flood  was  coming  down  from  the  north  ! 

Roaring  and  plunging,  it  was  breaking  in  upon  the  dis 
tance  ;  it  darkened  down  along  the  landscape,  revealing 
its  terrible  aspect  as  it  came.  A  towering  mass  of  black 
water  and  white  foam  and  tossing  wrecks, —  roofs,  beams, 
fences,  trees,  hay,  dead  and  struggling  cattle,  —  things 
they  could  not  distinguish  nor  comprehend ;  hurling  itself 
toward  them  along  the  pathway  of  the  Run,  spreading  and 
scattering  its  ruin  as  it  came,  high  up  over  the  Basin 
Meadows. 

It  struck  the  Beetle  cliff  like  a  sea ;  it  surged  into  the 
narrow  cuts ;  it  drifted  its  burden  of  destruction  into  them 
and  against  their  openings ;  it  made  a  dam  for  itself,  and 
poured  over  it  into  the  rocky  channels  like  a  cataract ;  the 
water  rose  and  rose,  over  shelf  and  terrace ;  it  raged  on, 
taking  the  little  island  bridges  before  it. 

Now,  really,  the  children  were  wrecked ;  the  house  it 
self  was  wrecked ;  the  island  was  cast  away. 

The  house  remained,  with  the  water  pouring  in  through 
the  upper  windows.  It  was  shifted  on  its  foundations  ;  it 
was  driven  —  happily  —  hard  up  between  the  old  pine- 
tree  whose  roots  ran  far  into  the  fissures  of  the  cliff,  and 
the  rock  itself  toward  which  the  buttery  window  opened. 
The  little  buttery  lean-to  and  part  of  the  shed  were  quite 
crushed  in  and  shattered  to  pieces.  But  only  water 
reached  the  dwelling-rooms ;  and  the  force  of  that  was 
partly  spent  and  broken  in  the  subsidence  across  the  great 
meadows,  and  against  the  barrier  of  the  rock  ridge. 


THE  LITTLE  SAVAGES  OF  BEETLE  ROCK.  199 

The  flood  went  on  and  on ;  it  filled  the  little  valley  below 
the  bend  ;  it  filled  and  flooded  its  barns  and  small  houses ; 
but  the  great  Eiger,  the  rushing  wave,  that  had  come  fif 
teen  miles  with  its  uprearing  head,  stretched  itself  down 
slowly  to  its  level,  and  busily  made  its  broad  bed  in  new 
lakes  spreading  back  to  the  feet  of  the  parallel  hills. 

Gale  Spellick's  house  was  safe ;  it  was  on  the  high 
knoll  upon  the  right  bank  of  the  Run  ;  but  the  knoll  was 
to-night  an  island.  There  was  many  a  desert-islander,  up 
and  down  the  Moosewood  valley,  stranded  in  his  own 
home,  cut  off  by  the  spreading  waters.  There  was,  —  the 
pity !  many  a  wrecked  home  ;  many  a  drowned,  bruised 
corpse  floating  away  or  lying  tangled  in  the  terrible  drift- 
heaps. 

The  Symeses  were  safe  at  the  Spellicks'.  Their  house 
was  gone  ;  covered,  in  its  low  nook  under  the  hill ;  whether 
destroyed  or  not  they  could  not  know. 

Cale  Spellick  himself  was  out  on  the  cliff-end  of  the 
east-side  Ridge,  looking  down  upon  the  desolation.  "  I 
s'pose  likely  thar  was  more  of  it  at  the  Delooge,"  he  said 
to  himself.  "  But  I  donnoah  's  Noah  could  noah  'r  any 
more  !  "  And  he  smiled  grimly  in  the  midst  of  his  solem 
nity,  with  a  dim  notion  of  something  curious  in  his  speech 
now  it  was  spoken ;  though  Cale  Spellick  could  as  soon 
have  made  a  poem  as  a  pun,  on  purpose. 

He  would  have  been  far  from  any  purpose  of  the  kind 
at  this  moment.  His  mind  was  fixed  on  two  things  :  the 
endeavor  to  discern  if  there  were  any  struggling  life  near 
him,  calling  for  help  ;  and  if  by  any  means  he  could  him 
self  cross  the  gulf  that  lay  between  him  and  his  house. 
A  tree  had  swept  into  the  wide  mouth  of  the  east  cut,  and 
had  lodged  in  its  narrowing  passage  at  the  swell  of  the 
island,  just  underneath  where  he  stood.  Some  beams  and 
fragments  had  been  hurled  into  the  clutch  of  its  branches. 


200  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

He  descended  along  the  edge  of  the  precipice  to  where,  by 
some  dropping  and  clinging  to  shelves  and  crevices,  he 
could  get  near  enough  for  a  leap ;  and  in  a  few  minutes 
he  was  on  Beetle  Rock,  at  about  half-way  to  its  top. 

"  I  think  it  must  be  because  we  told  so  many  lies,"  said 
a  childish  voice  up  above  him,  shrill  and  trembling  with 
fear  and  trouble.  The  sound  seemed  to  drop  down  to  him 
through  the  quieting  air,  from  above  the  monotonous  din 
of  the  rushing  water.  "  We  was  determined  to  pretend 
it,  and  now  't  is  !  " 

"  I  'm  so  cold !  If  we  could  only  get  down  some- 
wheres ! " 

"  We  would  n't  let  on  there  was  a  house  to  get  into,  and 
now  there  is  n't.  We  wanted  to  fix  things  for  ourselves, 
and  now  there  ain't  anything  to  fix  with,"  went  on  the 
first  little  self-judging  voice,  like  that  of  a  spirit  dropped 
out  of  its  world,  and  knowing  why  it  deserved  to  be  left 
out. 

"  Do  you  s'pose  we  '11  live  till  pa  and  ma  get  home  ?  " 

"  HUL-LO  !     /  giiess  we  'II  see  about  it !  " 

And  the  pebbles  rolled  down  from  under  Gale  Spellick's 
feet  as  he  strode  up  the  gullied  path. 

I  have  not  space  to  tell  you  much  more  about  it.  Gale 
Spellick  got  them  home  ;  the  boys  were  out  presently  with 
rafts  and  lanterns,  between  island  and  island.  They 
slept  with  all  the  young  Symeses  in  a  great  open  garret  at 
Gale's  house,  the  few  hours  they  could  sleep  before  morn 
ing  ;  and  theirs  was  one  story  of  the  many  stories  there 
were  to  tell,  over  and  over,  for  long  after,  of  the  night  of 
the  Great  Freshet. 

The  news  got  to  Peru  ;  and  the  next  night  brought  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Savage  —  traveling  until  morning  —  back  again. 

The   children  had  been  taken  up  to   Miss  Rebecca's, 


THE  LITTLE  SAVAGES  OF  BEETLE  ROCK.  201 

where  their  parents  would  be  sure  to  expect  to  find  them 
on  their  way  ;  and  here  all  our  Beetle  Rock  friends  re 
mained  for  two  or  three  weeks ;  while  the  waters  sub 
sided,  and  the  house  was  partially  restored,  and  things 
made  ready  for  them  to  begin  over  again  on  what  Luther 
never  wished  afterward  was  a  "  real  desert  island." 

"  'Cause  you  see,"  the  little  Radical  told  Miss  Rebecca, 
who  talked  it  over  pretty  seriously  with  him,  "  you  may  n't 
mean  to  go  to  tilings ;  but  you  kind  o'  want  to  know 
they  're  there  to  go  to  !  Besides,  I  've  concluded,"  he 
added,  with  equal  magnificence  and  magnanimity,  "  that 
if  I  was  to  make  thiilgs  all  up  again  myself,  I  could  n't 
make  'em  up  —  so  fur  —  any  better  than  they  be  now!  " 

Ryne  stood  by,  but  she  did  not  say,  u  I  told  you  so ; " 
and  Luther  thought  he  had  discovered  his  wisdom,  at 
least,  all  himself. 

But  Ryne  said,  regretfully,  "  There  's  one  thing :  we 
shan't  ever  know  now  whether  those  apple-pies  would  have 
been  good  or  not !  " 


GIRL-NOBLESSE. 

A  REPEAT   OF   HISTORY. 

[INTRODUCTORY. —  I  was  asked  by  the  editor  of  "  St.  Nicholas," 
in  which  magazine  this  story  first  appeared,  to  prefix  a  little  note 
of  explanation  to  my  analogue,  which  I  therefore  reprint  here. 

It  is  not  a  ' '  Repeat  of  History, ' '  as  such  ;  it  is  a  bit  of  incident 
in  which  something  that  happens  bears  a  parallel  likeness  to  another 
thing  that  happened  long  ago.  It  was  suggested  by  a  visit  I  made, 
a  summer  or  two  since,  with  a  young  party,  to  an  old  block-house 
near  the  coast  of  Maine,  a  genuine  relic  of  the  Indian  and  colonial 
times.  Cooper's  novels  were  among  the  great  delights  of  my  girl 
hood.  His  "  Pathfinder,"  in  which  the  lovely  Indian  girl,  Dew-of- 
June,  saves  the  life  of  the  heroine,  Mabel  Dunham,  by  warning  her 
to  seek  shelter  in  the  log-defense,  (telling  her,  mysteriously,  when 
all  seemed  safe  in  the  forest-fort  where  she  was  staying  with  her 
father,  the  sergeant  of  the  garrison, —  "  Block-house  good  ;  got  no 
scalp  ;  " )  the  adventures  that  followed  ;  the  plots  and  rude  retrib 
utive  vengeance  of  Arrowhead  ;  the  fidelity  of  June  coming  to  shut 
herself  up  with  Mabel  while  her  savage  kindred  were  besieging  the 
block ;  all  these  had  fascinated  me  over  and  over  again,  and  im 
pressed  on  my  mind  a  clear  vision  of  the  place  and  surroundings  as 
described.  So  that  when  I  stood  in  this  other  similar  structure,  and 
found  its  rough,  primitive  plan  the  very  same, —  and  when  certain 
little  jokes  and  frights  befell  and  amused  us, —  I  thought  how  easily 
the  same  characteristics  illustrated  themselves,  and  even  circum 
stances  fell  into  significant  resemblance,  in  the  old,  wild  time  and 
the  new,  cultivated  one.  The  idea  led  me  into  the  writing  of  this 
story.  You  who  have  read,  or  may  now  read,  the  "  Pathfinder," 
will  recognize  the  adaptation  and  application  of  names,  as  well  as 
the  spirit  and  action  of  the  persons,  in  several  cases  in  the  present 
tale  ;  as,  indeed,  they  are  partly  pointed  out  as  it  goes  along.  The 
tilings  unexplained  I  will  leave  you  the  pleasure  of  discovering  for 
yourselves. —  A.  D.  T.  W.J 


GIRL-NOBLESSE.  203 

"JlJXIA   ROYD." 

That  was  the  way  it  sounded,  and  that  was  the  way  it 
had  come  to  be  spelled  in  Nonnusquam,  as  well  as  in  other 
out-of-the-way  new  places  to  which  the  old  family  of  the 
Rougheads  had  scattered  and  drifted.  The  girls  in  Mrs. 
Singlewell's  school  hardly  knew  whether  to  think  it  funny 
or  pretentious  when  it  was  explained  to  them.  It  was  ri 
diculous,  anyway,  that  there  should  have  been  an  "  ori 
gin  "  to  this  village  name,  or  that  ancient  spelling  and 
present  pronunciation  should  have  anything  to  do  with 
each  other.  They  called  it  "  Rough-head,"  and  so  applied 
it,  in  the  school-girl  derision  that  is  so  cruel,  and  that  was 
directed  by  the  common  consent  of  a  certain  set  toward 
this  young  girl,  against  whose  admission  among  them 
they  had  scornfully  objected  that  she  was  "  only  one  of 
the  aborigines." 

Nonnusquam  was  known  farther,  but  perhaps  not  bet 
ter,  as  the  seat  of  a  superior  school  for  girls,  and  as  the 
summer  residence  of  a  few  wealthy  people  who  had  bought 
estates  and  built  houses  among  its  lovely  heights  and  along 
its  water-borders,  than  as  the  quiet,  honest,  homely,  uncul 
tivated  farm-settlement,  which  it  began  by  being,  and 
which  it  had  continued  to  be  up  to  the  sudden  advent  and 
rush  of  city  discoverers. 

And  Junia  was  a  meek,  modest,  easily  oppressed  sort 
of  girl,  —  on  one  side  of  her  character.  Strong  points 
lay  opposite  and  in  balance,  which  we  may  find  out,  as  the 
people  from  the  great  hubs  found  out  the  glory  of  the 
hills  and  waters  in  quiet  Nonnusquam. 

One  of  the  brightest  things  ever  said  in  satire  was  that 
concerning  our  grand,  old,  noble,  mean,  persecuted  and 
persecuting  New  England  ancestry :  ''  The  first  thing 
they  did  here  was  to  fall  upon  their  knees ;  the  next  was 
to  fall  upon  the  aborigines."  That  was  very  like  what 


204  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

some  of  the  city  settlers  and  improvers  had  done  in  Non- 
nusquam.  They  had  fallen  down  and  worshiped  hefore 
the  magnificence  of  nature, —  they  had  built  their  shrines 
there ;  then  they  had  set  foot  of  pride  on  the  primeval 
human  nature  in  whose  rough  simplicity  was  hid,  perhaps, 
a  grandeur  also.  It  came  hardest  upon  the  "  little  ones," 
for  despising  whom  there  is  a  threatening ;  and  it  came 
most  openly  from  the  other  little  ones,  than  to  cause  whom 
to  offend,  by  spirit  or  example,  a  millstone  round  the  neck 
is  better. 

So  Nonnusquam  was  divided  into  twain  ;  yet  there  were 
shades  in  the  differences,  and  crossings  in  the  partings, 
that  were  delicate  to  adjudge. 

Young  people  are  indiscriminate  :  they  could  not  see  the 
difference  between  the  Royds,  or  Rougheads,  and  the  Pol- 
liwocks.  They  could  not  appreciate  that  Redman  Royd, 
late  owner  of  half  the  pasture-lands  and  intervales  bought 
up  by  the  new  gentry,  and  still  holding  craftily  certain  in 
terjacent  coveted  meadow-strips  and  wooded  ridges,  —  a 
power  in  town-meeting  and  political  convention,  —  a  man 
with  a  blaze  in  his  eye  under  his  old  straw  hat  for  any  too 
cool  or  level  glance  from  beneath  more  stylish  brim,  —  was 
more  to  be  considered  or  accepted  than  Stadpole  Polli- 
wock  or  Evetson  Newt.  Consequently  they  could  not  ap 
preciate  that  Junia  Royd  could  have  privilege  among  them 
at  the  seminary  or  in  their  little  social  life  above  the  small 
Polliwocks  or  Captain  Newt's  Saramandy. 

"  R-o-u-g-h-e-a-d,  for  Royd  !  That 's  nonsense  !  "  said 
Hester  Moore. 

a  E-n-r-a-g-h-t,  for  Darby  !  That 's  a  fact,"  said  Ama 
bel  Dernham,  —  "in  a  certain  English  family  name.  And 
there  are  plenty  of  others,  almost  as  queer." 

"  E-n-r-a-g-e-d,  hopping-mad  !  That 's  the  fact  for  me, 
—  and  for  plenty  of  others  in  a  certain  American  school," 
returned  Hester. 


GIRL-NOBLESSE.  205 

"  What 's  the  use  ?  "  asked  placid  Amabel. 

"  Oh,  you  '11  give  in,  and  be  as  polite  as  a  pink,"  charged 
Hester.  "  I  know.  You  can't  show  your  mind,  ever." 

"I  can't  tread  on  anything,"  said  Amabel.  "The 
other  side  of  my  mind  comes  up  then,  and  I  show  that." 

"No  need  of  treading,"  said  the  incipient  woman  of 
the  world.  "  You  can  walk  'round  things,  or  put  them 
out  of  the  window.  But  you  '11  make  right  up  to  'em,  and 
cosset  'em ;  see  if  you  don't." 

So  Junia  Royd  was  (figuratively)  "  walked  'round  ;  " 
"  put  out  of  the  window ;  "  made  to  feel  like  a  phantom. 
The  girls,  whenever  it  so  suited  them,  behaved  precisely 
as  if  she  was  n't  there  ;  rather,  perhaps,  as  lacking  the 
second  sight  themselves.  For  if  they  could  have  seen  her 
in  the  spirit, —  ah,  that  is  the  secret  of  all  our  sins  against 
the  second  Great  Commandment ! 

There  were  a  few  little  Eves  whose  souls  were  not 
strong  against  odors  and  colors  of  apples  and  plums  which 
came  from  Squire  Royd's  garden,  and  were  irresistible  at 
lunch  time.  These  little  Eves  would  take  and  eat,  though 
they  must  thereby  make  acquaintance  with  second-rate, 
which  is  always  evil,  as  well  as  with  first-rate,  which  is  al 
ways  good. 

Then,  also,  there  was  Amabel  Dernham. 

Mrs.  Singlewell  was  a  woman  of  observation  and  in 
stinct.  She  might  find  herself  in  a  dilemma,  but  when 
she  moved  she  made  the  best  move  to  be  made.  She  put 
Junia  Royd  as  desk-mate  with  Amabel  Dernham.  I  will 
not  say  that  Amabel  did  not  at  first  feel  secretly  a  little 
"  put  upon."  Hester  Moore  came  by  within  an  hour  and 
whispered,  "  Little  Miss  Muffet !  "  But  that  rather  touched 
Miss  Muffet's  pride  in  the  right  place ;  and  she  stuck  to 
her  tuffet,  and  to  its  sharer,  like  a  woman.  A  real,  true 
woman  ;  not  a  feminine  creature,  afraid  of  spiders. 


206  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

Junia  Royd  was  slight  and  dark ;  Amabel  was  large 
and  fair ;  they  looked  together  like  a  little  deep-colored, 
velvet  pansy,  and  a  delicately  superb  one  of  white  and 
gold.  Junia  bent  her  dusky  head  to  her  contrast  and  wor 
shiped.  The  sunshiny  contrast  bloomed  on  serenely,  and, 
by  very  sunshine  and  serenity,  was  gracious. 

Amabel  shared  her  Latin  Lexicon  with  Junia ;  she 
showed  her  how  to  trace  the  derivations  and  disentangle 
the  constructions.  She  explained  "  abstracts  "  and  "  criti 
cisms  "  as  school  exercises ;  she  reminded  her  of  the  order 
of  lessons  and  the  obligation  of  rules,  until  these  became 
familiar  to  the  new-comer.  In  short,  she  was  just  "  as 
polite  as  a  pink,"  —  or  as  a  princess  pansy. 

Junia  would  lay  a  Jacqueminot  or  a  Gloire  de  Dijon 
rose  on  Amabel's  desk,  coming  early  to  school  on  purpose  ; 
Amabel  would  put  the  crimson  flower  in  her  blonde  hair, 
or  the  golden-colored  one  against  her  breast-knot  of  brown 
or  red ;  and  one  was  pleased  and  the  other  was  happy. 
But  Junia  never  offered  a  pear  or  a  peach  at  that  shrine ; 
she  kept  those  for  the  sort  to  whom  she  would  not  cast 
pearls,  —  the  sort  who  would  render  stolid,  narrow-eyed 
regard,  and  move  grovelingly  to  her  approach,  for  the  sake 
of  them.  She  gave  simply  what  they  came  for,  asking 
for  no  further  sign  in  exchange.  One  does  not  care  to  ca 
ress  that  kind  of  animal ;  one  would  rather  have  a  fence 
between  than  not. 

And  so,  with  all,  she  lived  a  phantom  life  among  these 
girls ;  even  with  Amabel,  not  getting  beyond  the  grace 
and  the  politeness,  —  the  shy,  sweet  utterance  of  thanks, 
or  the  matter-of-course  chirping  over  their  lessons.  If  on 
one  side  there  were  —  creatures  —  in  their  pen  of  exclu- 
siveness,  on  the  other  there  was  but  a  bird  on  a  bough. 
Any  beautiful,  realized  friendship  was  the  dream  of  her 
own  heart.  Amabel  was  claimed  on  all  sides  when  desk 


GIRL-NOBLESSE.  207 

hours  were  over  ;  her  way  did  not  lie  with  Junia's  ;  each 
drifted  to  her  separate  element  and  belonging  between 
school-out  and  school-in.  Junia  made  long  romances  to 
herself  of  what  these  intervals  were  like  to  the  birds  of 
the  air  ;  as  for  Amabel,  she  flitted  away  and  forgot  Junia 
altogether  every  day,  from  two  in  the  afternoon  till  nine 
next  morning,  when  she  lighted  again  beside  her. 

Neal  Royd  was  Junia's  brother ;  she  had  a  hard  time 
with  him,  often,  in  these  off  hours.  She  worshiped  him 
also,  —  and  first  and  always ;  he  was  brother  and  sister 
and  all  to  her  ;  tyrant  and  scoffer,  too,  with  his  man-mas 
terfulness  and  boy-cynicism.  He  had  the  hard,  proud  na 
ture  of  Neal  and  Roughead ;  "  Neal,"  in  the  old  Celtic, 
stands  for  "chief."  He  was  bitter  against  the  "high- 
noses,"  and  bitter  with  his  sister  because  they  snubbed 
her.  He  was  contemptuous  of  the  girl-noblesse ;  yet  he 
would  often  crush  June  with  scorn  of  her  position  with 
them, —  that  "she  could  not  be  anybody  as  well  as  any 
body  else."  He  would  have  been  well  content  to  carry 
the  Royd  rights  level  with  the  "  high-nose  "  assumptions. 
His  contempt,  therefore,  was  not  absolute  or  successful. 

He  was  especially  mordacious  against  "  Pester  More." 
He  had  his  own  grudges  against  the  name,  belonging  also 
to  "Alexander  the  Great,"  her  brother.  "He'll  never 
weep  for  more  worlds  to  conquer.  The  world  's  all  More, 
already,  for  small  Shandy,"  quoth  Neal  Royd.  He  would 
give  him  both  titles,  the  great  and  the  small,  in  one  sen 
tence.  "  Small  body  and  high  strut," —  "  big  spread  and 
little  spunk,"  he  said  of  him,  and  not  untruly. 

Hester  Moore  had  turned  her  back  upon  Neal  once, 
long  ago,  as  only  raw  rudeness  could  have  done,  and  left 
him  plante  la,  in  the  face  of  bystanders,  when  he  would 
have  handed  her  a  handkerchief  that  she  had  dropped ; 
and  Sandie  had  served  him  a  mean  trick,  and  never  given 


208  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

him  a  chance  to  pay  it  off.  -It  was  up  at  the  Little  "Wit- 
taquee  —  the  brook  that  feeds  the  Big  Wittaquee  before 
it  runs  past  Nonnusquam.  Neal  was  trout-fishing ;  he 
knew  a  place  that  few  others  knew,  and  he  had  just  got 
a  splendid  fellow  playing  around  his  line,  when  " ploomp  !  " 
came  a  stone  from  right  over  his  head  into  the  pool ;  and 
'•'ploomp  !  ploomp  !  "  another  and  another,  breaking  great 
circles  in  the  still  water,  and  scattering  the  fish,  of  course  ; 
besides  (which  was  even  worse),  a  voice  jeeringly  adver 
tising  the  discovery  of  his  secret.  Starting  to  his  feet, 
and  facing  about  and  upward,  he  saw  small  Shandy  coolly 
looking  over,  not  at  him,  but  upon  the  farther  water,  as 
if  simply  bent  upon  his  own  amusement,  and  as  if  not 
knowing  that  "  Neal  was  there." 

Down  went  the  rod  upon  the  bank,  and  up  the  rough 
steep  went  Neal,  scrambling  and  grasping,  making  with 
swift  vengeance  for  the  petty  foe,  whom,  even  after  the 
breathless  ascent,  he  knew  he  could  overtake  in  a  fair  run 
upon  the  level  above.  But,  lo  !  reaching  the  ridge,  from 
which  the  down-like  table  spread  away  for  half  a  mile 
toward  another  climb,  there  was  Master  Alexander  upon 
his  pony  Bucephalus,  putting  four  legs  to  their  best 
against  his  two ! 

"  Another  time  !  "  articulated  Neal  Royd,  with  deliber 
ation,  standing  stock-still  in  black  wrath,  not  even  raising 
a  fist  to  shake  impotently  after  the  "  meaching  minnum." 
"  Another  time  !  If  it  is  n't  till  we  're  both  men  !  " 

And  that  was  what,  indeed,  seemed  most  likely,  since 
Sandie  Moore  was  off  the  next  day  to  Mount  Desert,  to 
meet  a  yachting  party  for  his  holidays,  and  at  their  end, 
at  Exeter  Academy  again ;  and  in  the  intermediate  short 
space  that  he  had  been  at  Nonnusquam,  had  shown  the 
small,  conscious  shrewdness  of  his  sort  in  keeping  well  out 
of  "  the  Roughead's  "  way. 


GIRL-NOBLESSE.  209 

Neal  Royd  was  not  without  his  untrimmed  points  of 
human  nature,  though  there  was  better  blood  in  him  than 
in  Sandie  Moore.  He  was  an  aborigine  yet,  in  that  he 
was  the  enemy  of  a  girl  for  her  own  offenses  and  those 
of  her  kin.  A  savage  will  ambush  and  will  take  scalps 
of  women.  Neal  Royd  thirsted  for  a  chance  or  a .  con 
trivance  to  "  pay  off  "  to  "  Pester  More  "  the  interest,  at 
least,  upon  the  accumulating  family  debt.  He  was  only 
fourteen ;  there  was  hope  for  better  things  in  him,  since 
he  began  with  something  generous  enough  to  resent  a 
meanness  even  more  than  a  malice.  It  would  be  his  turn 
now,  though,  if  a  way  should  show  ;  and  fair  enough,  if 
he  served  them  in  their  own  fashion.  They,  not  he,  had 
set  it.  "  June  would  let  a  grasshopper  kick  her  !  " 

All  this  has  been  historical  introduction.  We  come 
now  to  the  beginning  of  our  "  repeat." 

A  gypsy  party  at  the  old  block-house.  A  straw  ride  to 
Mill  Creek  Landing  ;  the  steamer,  touching  at  ten  o'clock, 
for  Penbassett ;  the  lovely  river  sail,  the  quiet  cove,  the 
steep  rocks,  the  cavern,  the  woody  summit,  the  oak-glade 
in  the  farm-edge  ;  above  all,  the  real,  true,  old-settlement 
block-house  that  the  colonists  had  taken  refuge  in,  the  In 
dians  had  invested, —  with  the  bullet-holes  in  its  timbers, 
the  places  charred  and  blackened  by  flames  against  its 
massive  sides,  the  excavation  beneath  in  solid  ledge,  and 
the  tradition  of  an  underground  passage  to  the  cavern  by 
the  river. 

All  Mrs.  Singlewell's  young  ladies  were  to  go  ;  the  great 
difficulty  was  male  attendance.  It  was  September,  and 
the  youths  —  "  high-nose  "  —  were  just  away  at  academy 
or  college.  The  youths,  — •  snub-nose,  —  even  if  they  were 
to  be  asked,  would  hardly  go,  merely  as  "  Polly -put-the- 
kettle-ons,"  and  to  be  snubbed  some  more.  One  of  the 


210  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

inconveniences  of  a  small  town,  cleft  in  social  twain, 
arose.  Early  harvest  occupied  the  able-bodied  men ;  corn 
and  barley  were  of  more  consequence  than  a  day's  chore. 
Who  should  carry  baskets  up  and  down,  fetch  wood  and 
water,  and  hang  the  kettle  —  for  the  picnic  party  ? 

Amabel  Dernham  thought  "  Mamma  would  let  Zibbie 
go  "  (Zibbie  was  short  for  Zorayda  Brunhilda,  —  Z.  B., — 
the  magnificent  Moorish  and  Teutonic  prefixes  to  the  ple 
beian  Yankee  of  Spodge);  "besides,  it  would  be  only  fun 
to  do  it  nearly  all  ourselves." 

Hester  Moore  went  unblushingly  to  Junia  Royd,  and 
invited  her  to  invite  her  brother. 

"  You  are  the  only  one  who  has  a  brother  at  home,"  she 
said,  with  an  air  of  conscious  penalty-for-honor.  "  They 
would  all  go  if  they  were  here,  of  course ;  only  Mrs.  Sin- 
glewell's  mother  had  to  be  sick  at  just  the  wrong  time  — 
when  they  were  here  —  and  put  us  into  the  wrong  time 
now." 

Hester  Moore  had  probably  never  spoken  so  many  con 
secutive  words  to  Junia  before  in  their  whole  school  year. 

"  I  will  tell  him,"  said  June,  not  without  her  own  dig 
nity,  "  if  you  mean  it  for  a  message ;  but  very  likely  he 
will  think  it  a  wrong  time  for  him  to  be  in." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  see  why,"  said  Hester,  carelessly. 

To  Junia's  amazement,  Neal  said  that  he  would  go. 
Then  something  in  the  set  of  his  face  startled  her  dif 
ferently. 

"  O  Neal !  "  she  said,  "  don't !  —  I  mean  —  don't  do 
anything !  " 

"  Why,  what  do  you  suppose  they  want  me  for  ?  "  asked 
Neal.  "  I  shall  make  myself  of  service  —  to  the  interests 
of  society  in  general  —  in  any  way  that  I  see  chance  for." 

"  0  Neal !  don't  look  for  chances  !  That 's  just  what 
I  mean."  Junia  had  heard  the  word  too  often  not  to  be 
apprehensive  of  it. 


GIRL-NOBLESSE.  211 

"  You  may  be  sure  I  won't  waste  time  in  looking,  if  I 
can  make  one,"  was  all  that  Neal  vouchsafed.  "  And  I 
shall  go." 

Poor  little  June !  With  her  awe  of  Neal's  tremen- 
dousness,  and  her  gentle  dread  of  harm  or  pain  to  any, 
she  shivered  with  vague  imagination  of  little  less  than  an 
upset  canoe  on  the  river  in  the  pleasure-boating,  or  a 
block-house  blown  up,  in  good  earnest,  with  dynamite  ! 
If  she  could  only  warn  her  Amabel,  —  or  knew  what  to 
warn  her  of !  From  that  moment  the  gypsy  party  had 
only  trembling  and  terrors  for  her  ;  at  all  events,  in  the 
looking  forward.  When  they  were  fairly  embarked,  the 
delights  of  the  way  asserted  themselves  and  absorbed  her 
temporarily  ;  in  the  pauses,  or  recurrences  of  thought, 
she  remembered  to  look  forward  again,  and  the  nameless 
dread  began  anew.  Neal  was  so  reckless  of  what  he  did 
when  the  freak  was  on !  She  was  sure  there  would  be 
some  disaster,  —  something  to  make  them  wish  they  had 
not  gone. 

Amabel,  sitting  between  her  and  Hester  Moore  in  the 
wagon,  told  Hester  something  that  gave  Junia  a  cold 
shudder  at  the  outset. 

"  If  I  were  superstitious,  I  'd  hardly  dare  be  here," 
said  the  girl.  "  Old  Sabina  said  such  a  queer  thing  this 
morning.  She  brought  up  my  dress,  this,"  —  touching 
the  light  cambric  frills  that  lay  about  her  in  white  fresh 
ness,  —  "  into  my  room  last  night,  and  I  spread  it  out  so 
nicely  on  my  lounge.  Then  I  got  out  my  ribbons  and  my 
neckerchief,  and  put  everything  together  just  as  it  was  to 
go ;  and  this  morning  I  tied  up  my  flowers,  evenly,  and 
laid  the  bunch  at  the  side,  where  it  is  now  ;  and  there  I 
was,  you  see,  all  but  me,  just  as  straight  and  prim  and 
complete.  And  old  Sabina  came  in,  and  I  showed  her. 
I  was  doing  my  hair.  '  See  how  nice  it  looks,'  I  said ; 


212  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

and,  do  you  think,  she  just  gave  a  screech,  and  flew  at  it, 
and  tossed  everything  apart,  and  flung  the  dress  on  a 
chair.  '  For  goodness'  sake,  Miss  Amy,  don't  ever  do  a 
thing  like  that  again  !  Don't  streek  out  things  you  're  go 
ing  to  wear  and  make  'em  look  like  that !  Why,  my  sis 
ter,  that 's  a  widcler,  laid  out  just  a  long  frilled  counterpin 
once,  over  two  chairs,  not  to  muss  it  while  it  aired ;  and  it 
looked  so  goshly,  mother  made  her  take  it  away.  And  do 
you  b'lieve,  Miss  Amy,  't  war  n't  a  week  'fore  my  brother 
David  he  come  up  dead,  in  a  letter !  ' ' 

"  Oh,  don't ! "  cried  Junia,  excitedly ;  and  Amabel, 
turning  with  a  laugh  on  her  lips,  saw  June  as  white  as  the 
dress. 

"  Why,  do  you  mind  such  things  ?  "  she  asked.  "  It 
sounded  so  funny  !  " 

"So  —  '  ffoshly,'  "  replied  Junia,  trying  feebly  to  turn 
off  her  nervousness  by  the  quotation. 

"  I  don't  see  what  she  has  to  do  with  it,"  remarked 
Hester,  remotely. 

Junia,  put  in  the  third  person,  stayed  put,  and  held  her 
self  aside.  Put  down  ?  Easily  quenched  ?  These  easily 
quenched  persons  are  not  always  "  down."  There  is  a 
fine  inward  retreat,  of  which  the  putter-down  may  scarcely 
be  capable  even  of  supposing. 

In  this  retreat  Junia  troubled  herself  afresh  for  Ama 
bel.  She  was  always  with  Hester  Moore ;  and  June  was 
sure  that  Hester  Moore  would  be  that  day  like  a  tree  in  a 
thunder-storm,  for  whatever  bolt  should  fall. 

"  If  you  would  just  keep  with  me  to-day,  —  some  of 
the  time,"  —  she  entreated,  and  then  shyly  qualified, 
standing  by  Amabel  upon  the  pier. 

She  had  never  asked  for  herself  or  put  herself  in  the 
way  before.  Amabel  gave  a  glance  of  surprise. 

"  It  is  such  a  wild,  great  place,"  said  June. 


GIRL-NOBLESSE.  213 

"  Wo  shall  all  be  there,"  returned  Amabel.  "  Of  course, 
we  shall  be  together." 

Amabel  had  said  truly ;  there  were  two  sides  to  her 
mind,  and  she  was  sometimes  a  little  vacillating  in  her  ac 
tion  between  them. 

The  bright  little  steamer,  with  its  pretty  lattices  of 
white-painted  rope,  its  striped  awnings,  its  flying  colors, 
came  around  a  green  promontory  and  glided  to  the  land 
ing.  There  was  a  warping  in,  close  to  the  pier-head ;  a 
shock  and  tremble  of  the  tall  timbers  as  it  swept  suddenly 
against  them  ;  a  flinging  of  the  foot-plank ;  a  hurrying  on 
board ;  and  instantly,  like  a  flock  of  butterflies,  the  girls, 
in  their  white  and  dainty-colored  dresses,  and  shady, 
veiled  or  feathered  hats,  had  fluttered  and  settled  here 
and  there,  brightening  up  the  decks  with  their  motion  and 
alighting. 

Mrs.  Singlewell  was  coining  last,  —  Miss  Fidelia  Po- 
sackley,  the  assistant,  was  just  on  board, —  when  a  boy  on 
a  gray  pony  came  galloping  down  the  road,  reining  up 
just  in  time  on  the  wharf,  and  waving  a  yellow  envelope 
above  his  head,  as  he  kept  on  at  slackened  speed  toward 
the  steamer. 

"  Mrs.  Singlewell !  "  he  shouted  ;  and  the  lady  took  her 
foot  from  the  plank  and  turned  around. 

"  All  aboard  !  "  was  called  impatiently  from  the  boat, 
and  two  men  already  held  the  gang-plank,  ready  to  draw 
it  in. 

"A  telegram  !  " 

Mrs.  Singlewell  tore  it  open  ;  there  was  only  an  instant 
for  deciding  anything ;  she  passed  down  the  gang-plank, 
despatch  in  hand. 

"  It  is  from  Fordstoke,"  she  said  to  Miss  Posackley. 
"  My  mother  is  ill  again.  I  shall  have  to  go  on  to  Rigs- 
ton,  leaving  you  in  charge  at  Penbasset.  I  am  very 
sorry.  I  shall  be  very  anxious." 


214  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

Miss  Fidelia  assured  her  of  all  possible  care.  But  Miss 
Fidelia  Posackley  was  one  of  those  who  can  only  move 
between  ruled  lines  of  duty  and  precedent,  and,  by  very 
adherence  to  them,  go  straight  to  grief  —  or  stand  and 
take  it  —  when  sudden  deviation  is  demanded.  They 
turn  into  pillars  of  salt  instead  of  getting  out  of  Sodom. 
Miss  Posackley  was  invaluable  in  school  routine ;  she 
was  worse  than  nothing  for  an  emergency.  It  was  with  a 
great  misgiving,  therefore,  that  Mrs.  Singlewell  saw  her 
flock  of  butterflies  flutter  up  the  bank  into  the  oak  glades 
at  Penbasset ;  Miss  Fidelia,  with  her  green  lawn  over-dress, 
looped  in  two  precisely  similar,  long-pointed  festoons  be 
hind,  walking  among  them  like  a  solemnized  Katydid.  It 
was  too  late  to  have  helped  it ;  there  would  be  no  boat 
back  that  stopped  at  Nonnusquam  till  the  one  at  six 
o'clock,  which  they  were  to  take. 

"  Get  them  all  together  by  half-past  five,"  charged  Mrs. 
Singlewell  at  parting ;  "  and  let  there  be  no  going  in 
canoes." 

At  those  words,  one  dread  was  lifted  from  Junia  Royd's 
imagination. 

"Your  'sign'  is  read  out  now,"  said  Hester  Moore  to 
Amabel.  "  It 's  only  the  old  lady  that 's  '  come  up  '  worse 
again  in  a  telegram." 

Junia  would  not  have  spoken  so,  or  allowed  herself  that 
"  only ;  "  nevertheless,  another  weight  —  or,  rather,  a 
dim,  grim  sense  of  one  —  was  eased  within  her  mind. 

She  was  able,  with  a  released  spring  of  enjoyment,  to 
hasten  up  the  cliff -path  and  over  the  beautiful  oak-open, 
in  the  little  party  that  instantly  sought  the  famous  old 
block  -  house.  Another  detachment  took  the  shore  way 
along  the  rocks  toward  the  traditionary  cavern. 

Junia  had  read  with  enthusiasm  Cooper's  fascinating 
stories  of  border  life  and  forest  warfare.  The  legends  of 


GIRL-NOBLESSE.  215 

Deerslayer  and  Pathfinder  were  realities  to  her  in  that 
realm  where  fancy  shapes  its  facts  and  maps  its  terri 
tories.  She  had  not  more  surely  come  to  this  actual  spot 
than  she  had  gone  through  the  wilderness,  drifted  upon 
the  water,  and  dwelt  in  the  lonely  fort  or  on  the  rudely 
fortressed  island,  with  Judith  and  Hetty  and  the  young 
hunter,  —  the  brave  old  sergeant,  the  captious  Cap,  Eau- 
douce,  the  honest  scout,  and  Mabel  Dunham.  But  to 
come  here  to-day  was  to  make  that  strange  join  of  things 
dreamy  and  things  tangible  which  causes  the  visible  to 
seem  a  dream  and  the  vision  a  substance.  To  say, 
"  Right  here  those,  or  such,  things  have  been,"  was  to 
narrow  down  to  touch  and  presence  what  she  had  before 
gone  far  away  into  wide  thought-land  to  find  and  get  con 
ception  of. 

"  Mabel  Dunham !  "  All  at  once  that  came  and  fitted. 
Her  very  heroine  was  here  —  Amabel.  How  strange  that 
the  name  should  happen  so !  Amabel  Dernham.  And 
herself,  —  why,  she,  little,  dusky,  insignificant,  secretly 
worshiping  friend,  —  what  was  she  but  the  very  Indian 
June  of  the  wild-wood  story  ? 

She  rehearsed  it  all  to  Neal,  who  walked  up  with  her,, 
and  who  knew  the  old  tale  by  heart  as  well  as  she. 

"  And  I  'm  Neal  Roughead,  —  Chief  Arrowhead  !  " 
cried  the  boy. 

"  And  if  I  knew  what  you  'd  do  to  Amabel,  —  my 
Mabel,  —  I  'd  go  and  tell  her,  as  June  did  Mabel  Dun 
ham  !  "  retorted  quiet  Junia,  in  a  quick,  low,  angry  tone. 

"  'T  is  n't  your  Amabel,  —  she  's  well  enough ;  it 's  the 
rest  of  'em.  It 's  that  '  Pester  '  More  !  " 

"  She  's  always  with  that  Hester  Moore  ;  what  happens 
to  one  will  happen  to  the  other." 

"  Let  it,  then.  Good  for  her  !  Why  is  n't  she  some 
times  with  you  ?  " 


216  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

"  What  is  it,  Neal  ?  "  asked  Junia,  pleadingly. 

"  Don't  know  myself.  Time  enough  when  the  time 
comes.  Only  you  look  out,  and  keep  yourself  in  a  clear 
place,  and  clear  of  '  Pester  '  More." 

Junia  was  silent  then,  but  her  eyes,  full  of  helpless 
trouble,  would  not  leave  her  brother's  ;  and  somehow  the 
trouble  would  not  let  her  see  the  half-fun  half  hid  in  his, 
or  that  he  was  already  amusing  himself  in  advance  with 
her. 

"  Sho,  June  !  Don't  work  yourself  up  to  concert  pitch 
like  that.  You  girls  always  suppose  the  end  of  the  world, 
or  nothing.  I  sha'n't  tomahawk  anybody.  But  I  can 
scare  their  fish,  or  make  'em  feel  small,  I  guess,  one  way 
or  another,  before  it 's  been  their  turn  much  longer." 

With  that,  June  had  to  make  much  of  the  relief  again, 
and  go  on  with  the  others  to  the  block-house.  Neal 
stopped  at  the  "  big  flat "  with  some  baskets,  and  was  to 
return  to  the  pier  for  more. 

Not  all  the  girls  had  read  "  The  Pathfinder  ;  "  still  fewer 
were  acquainted  with,  or  cared  much  for,  the  early  history 
of  Penbasset,  in  which  this  old  block-house  figured,  as 
the  other  did  in  the  novel.  Miss  Posackley  dutifully  en 
larged  to  them  upon  the  one ;  the  girls  who  knew  the  en 
chanting  fiction  broke  up  the  solid  lecture  with  interpola 
tions  of  the  romance,  and  finally  got  the  audience — all 
that  was  audience,  and  not  restlessness  and  chatter  —  to 
themselves.  June,  knowing  it  all  better  than  any,  stood 
silent,  and  gazed  intently  about  her,  recognizing  the  points 
and  landmarks  of  her  dream.  For  one  of  these  old  block 
houses  was  nearly  a  duplicate  of  another. 

The  heavy  door  of  the  structure  had  been  long  off  its 
hinges ;  some  of  the  great  timbers  leaned  up  against  its 
side  ;  an  open  space  where  its  leaf  had  hung  gave  wide 
entrance  into  the  dusty,  empty,  ancient  interior.  The  nar- 


GIRL-NOBLESSE.  217 

row  loops  would  else  have  let  in  little  light.  As  it  was,  — 
low-raftered,  deep,  and  heavily  built,  —  there  was  enough 
of  the  shadow-charm  of  mystery  for  the  young  explorers, 
as  they  stepped  across  the  great,  rude,  uncrumbled  sill, 
and  went  peering  in  toward  the  far,  dark  corners. 

"  Such  beams  !  "  they  exclaimed.  "  Whole  trees  !  and 
big  ones  !  And  such  bolts  and  clampings  !  " 

"  Here  are  the  holes  they  fired  their  rifles  from  !  " 

"  And  here  are  bullet-holes  at  the  edges,  where  the 
Indians  tried  to  fire  in  !  " 

"  But  this,  girls,  is  the  trap-door  —  take  care!  Down 
here  are  the  mysteries  and  the  underground  passage  !  " 

"  /'in  going  down  !  "  cried  Clip  Hastings,  always  first, 
and  often  head-first. 

"•  My  dear  !  "  remonstrated  Miss  Posackley,  "  it 's  five 
or  six  feet,  and  no  steps  !  " 

''  No  matter.  Here  I  am  !  "  replied  Clip  from  the  cel 
lar,  into  which  she  had  swung  herself  while  the  words  were 
spoken.  And  half  a  dozen  others  had  followed  before  Miss 
Posackley  could  call  up  rule  or  precedent  for  determined 
opposition. 

'•  There  !  Stop,  my  dears !  No  more  of  you  must  go 
down  !  "  she  said,  with  outstretched,  hindering  hands,  to 
the  others.  <k  I  can't  see  how  they  are  to  get  back  again, 
I'm  sure."  And  she  fluttered  to  the  brink,  like  a  hen  whose 
ducklings  are  in  the  water. 

"  Round  by  the  cavern  !  "  called  back  Clip.  "  Good- 
by  !  "  Then  the  voices  grew  smothered  under  the  solid 
floor,  as  the  rebels  groped  away  into  the  darkness. 

"  My  dears  !  Young  ladies  !  Really,  this  will  not  do  !  " 
called  Miss  Posackley.  "  Come  back  instantly  !  " 

Were  they  out  of  hearing  ?  No  answer  —  no  sound  of 
one  —  returned.  How  far  did  the  excavation  reach  ?  And 
what  might  be  there  ?  Water,  possibly  !  An  old  well ! 


218  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

What  might  they  grope  or  stumble  into  ?  Miss  Posackley 
was  in  an  agony. 

The  stillness  that  had  occurred  so  suddenly  continued. 
Some  of  the  girls  were  frightened,  some  eagerly  excited. 

"  Oh,  where  do  you  think  it  goes  to  ?  Have  they  fallen 
into  anything  ?  "  cried  the  first. 

And  "  They  've  found  it ;  they  've  gone  down  to  the 
river  !  Let  us  go  too,  please,  Miss  Posackley  ?  "  declared 
and  besought  the  second. 

"  Not  one  of  you  ;  on  no  account !  "  said  Miss  Posackley, 
unsparing  of  her  negatives  in  her  vehemence. 

Hester  Moore  was  one  of  the  explorers.  Junia  held 
Amabel  by  the  arm,  above.  She  had  barely  hindered  her 
from  following ;  not  that  she  had  really  thought  of  danger, 
at  the  first,  but  simply  that  she  saw  Hester  go,  and  she  was 
to  keep  those  two  apart.  If  she  could  do  but  that  all  day 
long,  not  knowing  why  !  Not  waiting  to  know,  —  only 
clinging  to  the  warning  of  Neal's  words  :  "  A  clear  place, 
and  clear  of  '  Pester  ' !  "  There  would  be  mischief  some 
how  ;  and  this  would  be  the  only  sure  exemption  from  it. 

Neal  Royd  is  not  the  first  who  has  been  terrible  by  hint 
and  mystification,  while  tolerably  mystified  himself  as  to 
fulfillment.  He  walked  up  at  this  moment  from  the  kettle- 
hanging,  and  looked  in  at  the  open  door.  He  was  "  behav 
ing  so  well,"  the  girls  thought ;  not  putting  himself  where 
he  did  not  belong.  But  then,  what  could  one  strange  boy 
do  among  all  of  them  ?  They  were  not  at  all  in  doubt 
of  their  veritable  and  sufficient  terribleness  —  these  little 
women  in  their  millinery  and  manners  ! 

"  0  Master  Royd  !  "  exclaimed  proper  Miss  Posackley. 
"  They  have  gone  down  there  —  half  a  dozen  of  them. 
Where  do  you  suppose  that  underground  way  leads  ?  They 
seem  to  be  quite  out  of  hearing.  I  am  very  much  con 
cerned." 


GIRL-NOBLESSE.  219 

"  They  say,"  returned  Neal,  with  great  gravity  and 
weight  of  manner,  "  that  there  's  a  steep  underground  way 
to  the  river.  But  I  should  think  it  could  n't  be  very  safe ; 
it  must  be  very  '  blind,'  anyhow.  I  '11  see  what  I  can  find 
out." 

And  he  dropped  himself  down  into  the  blackness,  where 
he  stooped  and  peered  about ;  then  moved  with  apparent 
caution  away  from  the  opening,  and  out  of  sight. 

"  The  place  is  as  still  as  death,"  he  called  back  from 
beneath.  "  It  's  very  curious." 

"  Oh,  what  shall  we  do  ?  "  cried  Miss  Posackley,  in 
terror. 

"  If  they  only  come  out  at  the  other  end,  it  '11  be  all 
right.  But  if  they  get  down  anywhere  and  can't  get  up 
again  ;  or  get  stuck  in  the  middle  —  I  declare  !  here  is  a 
hole  !  " 

"  Miss  Posackley,"  he  said,  returning  to  the  trap,  "  I 
think  you  'd  better  just  step  down  here  yourself."  A  queer 
little  smothered  sound  interrupted  him.  "  Hark  !  I  thought 
I  heard  something.  I  really  don't  believe  they  can  have 
got  far.  If  you  would  just  come  down,  —  it  is  n't  at  all 
bad  here,  —  and  call  to  them,  —  they  would  n't  mind  me, 
you  know,  —  it  would  be  the  best  thing.  And  then  you 
would  have  done  all  you  could,  you  see  ;  and  if  you  want 
me  to,  I  '11  try  the  burrow." 

"  Oh,  how  can  I  ?  "  faltered  poor,  shocked  Miss  Po 
sackley,  wringing  her  hands  over  the  chasm. 

"  You  '11  have  to  be  quick,  I  'in  afraid,"  urged  Neal, 
mercilessly  solemn. 

"  Go  back,  young  ladies,"  commanded  Miss  Posackley 
to  the  rear  squad,  who  huddled  about  her,  divided  between 
frightened  faith  and  most  diverted  skepticism.  "  Go  down 
to  the  big  flat  and  wait  for  me.  Oh,  how  can  I  ever  ?  " 

"  Oh,  what   a  lark  !  "  laughed  out  Kitty  Sharrod,  the 


220  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

minute  she  was  outside,  and  turning  short  around  to  look  in 
through  the  great  doorway.  "  Can't  she  see  it 's  nothing  but 
a  lark  all  round  ?  I'd  give  a  coach  and  horses  to  he  down 
there !  She  called  me  just  as  I  was  over  the  edge.  It  just 
stopped  at  me,  —  my  luck !  She's  actually  gone  down  ! 
—  How  do  you  suppose  she  will  come  up  again  ?  "  the  girl 
added,  slowly  and  sepulchrally,  to  her  companions,  who 
lingered,  not  knowing  whether  to  laugh  or  cry. 

"  Come  back  and  see  it  out !  She  won't  mind  now  she's 
down,  and  thinks  we  did  n't  see  her  go.  —  Do  take  care, 
Miss  Posackley !  We  can't  go  off  and  leave  you  there  ! 
You  '11  want  us  to  help  you  up  again,"  shouted  Kitty,  lean 
ing  boldly  down  the  trap. 

A  match  flashed  below  ;  Neal  held  it  right  above  Miss 
Posackley's  head.  Kitty  Sharrod,  gazing  after  its  illumi 
nation,  saw  what  Miss  Posackley  also  saw  — a  row  of  crouch 
ing  figures,  two  or  three  feet  apart,  each  with  hands  on 
knees,  flat  against  the  low,  rough  wall  of  the  far  side. 
From  the  motionless  rank  burst  a  sudden,  laughing  salute. 

Miss  Fidelia's  position  before  them,  alone,  would  have 
been  like  that  of  a  general  at  a  review.  Only,  she  had  to 
crouch  also,  which  impaired  her  dignity,  and  made  the 
tableau  irresistible.  The  floor  was  not  more  than  four  and 
a  half  feet  —  instead  of  five  or  six  —  from  the  ground  be 
low. 

Neal  Royd  struck  a  light  again,  —  a  whole  card  of 
matches. 

"  Won't  they  get  it  ?  "  exclaimed  Kitty  Sharrod,  in  an 
excited  whisper,  clapping  noiseless  hands.  "  But  I  'd  give 
a  Newport  cottage  to  be  there,  and  to  see  her  face !  " 


GIRL-NOBLESSE.  221 


II. 

"Young  ladies!"  said  Miss  Posackley,  in  her  most 
assured  official  voice.  But  the  attitude  neutralized  it  too 
absurdly.  The  doubled-up  young  ladies  tittered  all  along 
the  line. 

"  Master  Neal  Royd,  put  out  those  matches,  please. 
And  light  no  more.  They  are  most  dangerous." 

"  And  disillusionizing,"  said  a  low  voice  somewhere  in 
the  dimness,  as  the  little  blaze  expired  beneath  Neal's 
boot. 

"  This  will  all  be  laid  before  Mrs.  Singlewell,"  said 
Miss  Posackley,  just  as  if  she  had  been  at  full  height 
upon  the  platform  at  the  top  of  the  long  school-room. 
"  At  present,  you  have  to  go  up  as  you  came  down.  Mas 
ter  Royd,  you  will  go  before,  if  you  please.  Miss  Has 
tings,  you  led  the  way  ;  lead  back  again." 

There  came  a  scrambling,  with  laughs  and  outcries. 
Neal  Royd  was  in  the  trap-way,  head  up,  ready  to  spring 
forth. 

"  Oh  !  oh  !  I  've  lost  —  I  've  dropped  something,  Miss 
Posackley.  I  must  look  !  "  sounded  suddenly  in  distress. 
It  was  Hester  Moore's  voice.  "  Just  let  me  have  a  match 
one  minute  !  " 

"  On  no  account,"  replied  Miss  Posackley.  "  Go  up, 
Master  Neal.  Go  up,  young  ladies.  This  is  very  ex — 
traordinary !  "  she  concluded  ;  but  she  gasped  the  word 
out,  with  a  distressed  puff  between  the  syllables,  quite 
irrelevantly. 

"  She  meant  ex-hausting,"  whispered  Kitty  Shai-rod. 
"  There  '11  have  to  be  more  ex-hoisting  before  they  all  get 
out.  And  she  's  bound  to  come  up  last !  For  shame, 
girls  !  "  she  cried  aloud.  "  Make  haste  !  " 


222  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

"  Hush  up,  Kitty  Sharrod  !  —  Oh  dear,  I  can't  find  it. 
Don't  tread  all  around,  girls  !  " 

"  Is  it  your  handkerchief,  Miss  Moore  ?  I  may  be  able 
to  pick  it  up  for  you  presently,"  Neal  Royd  said,  most 
suavely,  giving  his  hands  to  Clip  Hastings,  who,  short  but 
springy,  came  lightly,  with  that  aid,  to  the  upper  floor 
again. 

Hester  Moore  suddenly  hushed  up  herself. 

"  Have  you  found  it  ?  What  was  it  ?  "  they  asked  her, 
as  they  crowded  forward  from  below. 

"  Never  mind  ;  it's  all  right  now,"  said  Hester,  gruffly. 

"  She  's  found  she  never  lost  it.  That  always  makes 
people  cross,"  said  little  Lucy  Payne,  while  Neal  reached 
down  and  lifted  her  from  the  arms  of  Sue  Merriman, 
who  held  her  up  to  him. 

Neal  gave  a  keen  glance  sidewise  at  Hester's  face 
when  she  grappled  with  the  outer  edge  of  the  trap,  and 
struggled  up  heavily,  and  with  much  pushing  from  her 
comrades,  through  the  aperture,  scrambling  ignominiously 
out  on  hands  and  knees. 

"  She  has  n't  found  it.  And  it  's  no  handkerchief. 
And  she  's  in  some  scrape,"  he  said  to  himself. 

"  O  Hester  !  have  n't  you  lost  something  else  ?  Where  's 
that  lovely  "  — 

"  In  my  pocket,  silly  !  Do  be  quiet !  "  interrupted 
Hester,  pushing  Lucy  Payne  aside,  and  making  sullenly 
for  the  door. 

"  Hester  !  Hetty  !  She  's  missing  the  greatest  fun  of 
all,"  said  mischievous  Clip  Hastings  in  a  low  tone,  — 
"  the  seeing  Miss  Fidelia  emerge.  What  will  she  do 
with  her  dignity  ?  " 

"  I  '11  take  care  of  Miss  Fidelia  and  her  dignity,"  said 
Neal  Royd.  "  Though,  perhaps,  that  is  quite  as  much 
your  own  business."  There  was  a  chivalrous  indignation 


GIRL-NOBLESSE.  223 

in  the  boy's  tone.  "  Girls  never  know  when  a  joke  or  a 
torment  has  gone  far  enough,"  he  thought. 

He  jumped  down  through  the  trap  as  the  last  of  Miss 
Posackley's  charge  gained  foothold  above,  and  then  he 
dropped  on  all  fours  in  the  dust  and  rubbish,  putting  his 
head  down,  and  his  shoulders  up,  to  the  full  stretch  of  his 
strong-braced  arms. 

"  Step  on  my  back,  Miss  Posackley.  June,  reach  Miss 
Posackley  your  hands." 

And  Miss  Posackley,  who  had  a  neat,  small,  light- 
booted  foot,  and  nothing  lumbering  in  her  measured  mo 
tions,  first  spread  a  little  scarf  she  carried  across  the 
young  Raleigh's  coat,  and  then  stepped  with  a  truly  Eliza 
bethan  air  upon  the  offered  support,  and  so,  with  not  too 
ungainly  struggle,  up  into  the  main  room. 

"  I  am  exceedingly  obliged,  and  really  quite  ashamed," 
she  said,  turning  to  Neal  as  he  sprang  out  again  and 
handed  her  the  silken  strip,  with  a  quiet  "  Thank  you " 
of  his  own,  proceeding  to  dust  his  knees  with  his  handker 
chief.  '"  But  why  —  not,  of  course,  that  any  of  us  should 
expect  such  aid  from  you  —  did  you  only  think  of  it  for 
me  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  because  my  jacket  is  n't  for  everybody's 
dust,"  he  said.  "  Some  people  use  you  gently  ;  and  some 
tread  upon  you  as  if  they  meant  it.  It 's  your  own  fault 
if  you  can't  guess  the  difference  beforehand." 

From  that  moment  Miss  Posackley  had  a  respect  for 
Neal  Roycl,  and  put  a  friendly  confidence  in  him. 

"  No  more  going  into  the  block-house,  young  ladies, 
without  express  permission,"  was  Miss  Fidelia's  general 
order,  as  she  came  out  and  headed  her  flock  once  more, 
taking  the  way  down  to  the  big  rock. 

The  kettle  was  filled  and  hung ;  the  fire  laid ;  the 
baskets  and  parcels  all  placed  comfortably  at  hand.  Neal 


224  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

struck  a  match  and  touched  it  to  the  hrush  and  pine  chips, 
and  a  hlaze  went  up.  Then  he  judiciously  withdrew  him 
self  in  his  former  unpretentious  manner,  and  sauntered  off 
toward  the  block-house.  He  had  more  matches  in  his 
pocket,  and  he  was  not  included  in  the  forbiddance  to  the 
"young  ladies."  Ten  minutes  later,  he  sauntered  back 
again  to  Miss  Posackley  and  her  party,  to  see  if  anything 
were  wanted.  He  had  something  else  in  another  pocket, 
—  a  dainty  little  golden  chatelaine  watch. 

"  June,"  said  Hester  Moore,  a  little  while  after  dinner 
was  over  ;  "  just  ask  your  brother  for  some  matches,  will 
you?" 

June  looked  up  with  a  triple  amaze  at  the  allocution, 
the  name,  and  the  request.  "  What  for  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Oh,  we  shall  go  into  the  cavern  presently,  and  I  want 
some  for  myself.  I  won't  be  caught  again,  as  I  was  in  the 
old  block-house.  I  did  n't  half  see  that  either.  We  went 
right  down  into  that  miserable  hole.  See  here,  June ! 
Mabel  and  I  are  determined  we  will  see  it  again,  whether 
or  no.  You  come,  too,  that 's  a  good  child.  You  know 
all  about  it.  But  now,  just  get  the  matches.  I'll  do  as 
much  for  you  any  time." 

"  I  do  not  think  I  shall  need  you  to,"  said  June,  rather 
coolly.  "  And  I  don't  believe  Neal  will  let  us  have  any 
matches.  And  we  had  better  not  disobey  Miss  Posackley. 
I  '11  ask  Neal,  though."  And  she  went  off  at  once,  and 
did  it. 

Neal  laughed. 

"  Cunning,  is  n't  she  ?  In  a  small  way.  But  I  guess 
I  'm  her  match  —  though  I  've  got  no  matches  for  her. 
She  might  set  the  cavern  on  fire,  eh  ?  " 

"  You  're  quite  right,  Chiefie ;  only  I  thought  I  had 
better  give  her  your  own  answer." 

"  Well,  that 's  it ;  only  you  need  n't  tell  her  the  whole 


GIRL-NOBLESSE.  225 

of  it.  I  say,  June,  what  do  you  suppose  she  lost  clown 
there  ?  What  did  she  have  —  did  n't  you  notice  ?  —  that 
she  might  lose  ?  that  she  might  be  afraid  to  lose  —  or 
tell  of,  if  she  had  lost  it  ?  " 

Something  flashed  suddenly  across  June's  mind. 

"  Why !  she  had  a  lovely  chatelaine  watch,  just 
like  "  - 

"That?" 

"  Chiefie  !  Where  did  you  get  it  ?  Why,  it  is  Grade's  !  " 
she  exclaimed,  when  she  had  taken  the  trinket  into  her 
hand  and  glanced  at  it  on  each  side.  "  See,  there  is  the 
monogram  '  G.  V.'  She  would  n't  let  us  look  at  it  closely  ; 
I  thought  it  was  her  sister's.  She  was  crazy  to  wear 
Grace  Vanderbroke's  when  it  first  came ;  I  used  to  hear 
her  teasing  for  it.  It  was  at  the  jeweler's  to  be  regulated, 
when  Grace  was  sent  for ;  she  begged  leave  to  get  it  and 
keep  it  for  her  till  she  came  back.  But  she  said  Blanche 
Hardy  would  do  that,"  June  went  on,  with  girlish  am 
biguity  of  pronouns.  "  Then  Hester  was  provoked,  and 
said  it  did  n't  matter  —  other  people  had  chatelaine 
watches  ;  she  could  borrow  one  from  her  own  home  if  she 
wanted  to  ;  her  mother  and  her  sister  —  who  is  engaged 
—  both  had  them  ;  she  only  wanted  to  do  her  a  kindness. 
And  then  to-day  —  oh  !  when  she  half  showed  it,  she  did 
make  us  think,  if  she  did  n't  say  out  and  out,  that  it  was 
her  sister's.  And  Blanche  Hardy  went  yesterday  with 
her  sister,  the  bride,  to  Lake  Rinklepin.  Oh,  Neal !  She 
must  have  —  borrowed  it  —  out  of  Blanche's  trunk  !  " 

"All  right.  Now  let  her  whistle  for  her  matches  —  and 
her  chances  !  I'll  go  and  put  it  back  where  I  found  it. 
It  was  safe  enough.  '  Block-house  good.  Got  no  scalp.'  " 

"  Don't  be  horrid,  Neal.     If  you  would  only  help  her 
out  of  it  —  think  !     It  would  be  —  it  would  be  being  a 
real  Chiefie  to  do  that." 
15 


226  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

"  I  'm  only  a  chief  in  the  rough,  Junie.  And  '  set  a 
chief  to  help  a  thief  !  '  There  's  no  such  saying  as  that, 
even  in  the  New  Testament !  "  And  Neal  strode  off. 

He  had  two  or  three  strokes  of  revenge  to  choose  from. 
He  could  walk  up  innocently  to  Miss  Posackley  before 
them  all,  and  give  into  her  charge  what  he  had  found, 
which  would  bring  the  whole  disclosure  down  upon  Pester 
More's  head  ;  or  he  could  let  her  worry  all  day,  and  spoil 
her  good  time,  reserving  to  himself  the  alternative  of 
showing  mercy  at  the  last,  and  shaming  her  of  her  own 
meannesses,  or  of  still  finishing  her  off  with  the  public 
exposure  which  she  deserved.  Or,  again,  he  could  put 
the  thing  back  where  he  had  found  it,  as  he  had  said  ; 
leaving  it  and  her  to  take  the  "  chances,"  the  probabilities 
of  which  he  had  his  own  ideas  about. 

He  rejected  the  first  and  most  summary  method  ;  for 
the  rest,  he  postponed  the  matter.  An  Indian  chief  post 
pones  the  tomahawk ;  he  understands  the  fine  torture  of 
suspense. 

June  was  too  tender  for  that,  even  with  her  foe.  She 
could  say  nothing  about  Neal ;  she  must  leave  him  to 
manage  his  own  affairs ;  but  she  did  go  to  Miss  Posackley 
—  believing  that  her  brother  would  do  as  he  had  said, 
and  that  the  watch  would  have  to  be  found  over  again  in 
the  block-house  cellar  —  and  asked  her  if  "  Miss  Dernham 
and  Miss  Moore  and  I  "  could  go  up  there  again,  "  just 
for  a  few  minutes." 

Miss  Posackley  refused.  It  would  be  a  precedent  for 
all  the  rest.  They  had  all  seen  it ;  that  must  now  be 
enough. 

"  No  more  block-house  to-day,  my  dear.  I  have  quite 
made  up  my  mind  on  that  point.  It  is  growing  late,  be 
sides  ;  and  we  are  going  to  the  cavern." 

"  Glad  of  it !  "  was  Hester  Moore's  comment.   "  They  all 


GIRL-NOBLESSE.  227 

would  come  tumbling  after.  Amabel,  I  want  you.  There 
are  lovely  rock-mosses  up  on  the  steep  knoll."  And  she 
turned  off  without  further  notice  of  Junia,  who  had  done 
her  the  kindness.  Amabel  followed,  longing  for  rock- 
mosses,  but  demurring  about  cows. 

"  Cows  don't  go  up  the  side  of  a  house,"  retorted  Hes 
ter.  "  And  the  fences  are  beyond  it,  too." 

The  rock-knoll  rose  from  the  extremity  of  the  low,  nat 
ural  bank-wall  which  separated  the  block-house  level  on 
the  front  from  the  terrace  below,  the  verge  of  which  was 
the  broad  "  big  flat,"  and  whence  descended  again,  in 
abrupt  declivity,  the  real  precipice,  in  the  face  of  which, 
upon  the  river-brink,  was  the  traditional  cave.  The  knoll 
jutted,  like  a  steep  headland,  over  into  an  adjoining 
meadow  on  its  farther  side  ;  on  the  right,  its  ridge,  bushy 
with  sweet-fern  and  brambles,  trended  gradually  to  the 
plane  of  the  fortress  field.  Toward  the  block-house,  these 
wild  growths  gave  a  cover  nearly  all  the  way.  Elsewhere, 
all  was  visible  upon  this  plane  to  those  upon  the  flat  be 
low. 

A  walled-in  lane  led  from  the  left  upper  corner  of  the 
block-house  field,  between  the  meadow  and  some  corn- 
land,  up  to  the  high,  wooded  pastures ;  at  its  head,  a 
stout,  heavy  "  pair  of  bars  "  stretched  across.  Up  this 
lane  Neal  Royd  was  walking,  whistling,  having  mended 
Zibbie's  fire  and  filled  her  kettle  for  her  dish-washing. 

"  I  guess  it  '11  keep  that  girl-flock  to  the  lower  lot  faster 
than  any  commandment,"  he  said  to  himself,  as  he  came 
and  leaned  for  a  moment  upon  the  bars.  Out  beyond, 
some  seven  or  eight  cows  were  quietly  feeding. 

Royd  let  down  the  bars  and  stood  there  watching  the 
cows. 

"  They  can't  get  farther  than  the  block-house  flat,"  he 
said  again.  "There'll  be  a  red -skin  blockade,  sure 


228  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

enough ;  Pester  More  won't  dare  run  that  blockade,  either. 
I  like  to  see  that  laws  are  kept.  I  was  to  he  useful ;  I'll 
be  as  useful  as  I  can." 

He  had  no  notion  that  Hester  Moore  and  Amabel  were 
at  the  very  moment  on  that  side  of  the  terrace  wall,  hurry 
ing  along  the  sheltered  dip  of  ground  toward  the  block 
house.  He  only  meant  they  should  not  find  it  possible  to 
get  there.  When  he  turned  and  walked  down  the  lane 
again,  they  were  already  within  the  ancient  wooden  walls. 

The  cows  had  seen  him,  —  had  lifted  their  heads  at  his 
coaxing  "  Co  !  co  !  "  —  and  with  their  kinely  instinct  were 
heading  slowly  toward  the  opened  way,  possibly  anticipat 
ing  a  pan  of  salt. 

Neal  made  straight  for  the  big  flat  and  the  descent  to 
the  cavern.  On  the  picnic  ground  he  overtook  June, 
lingering  there  alone.  She  had  been  helping  Zibbie 
gather  up  the  fragments  ;  Zibbie  had  now  gone  down  to 
the  pier,  her  arms  laden  with  baskets. 

"  Where  's  the  crowd  ?  "  Neal  asked  his  sister.  "  What 's 
left  you  out?" 

"  The  crowd  is  in  the  cavern,  and  on  the  shore,  and  all 
along,"  she  replied.  "  I  waited  with  Amabel.  She  went 
with  Hester  Moore  to  get  mosses  on  the  knoll." 

"  Whe-ew !  "  whistled  Neal,  taking  in  the  situation,  and 
glancing  up  behind  them.  Nothing  was  moving  on  the 
knoll  but  great,  red,  horned  creatures,  wending  their  way 
down  and  deploying  themselves  around  the  block-house. 
Yes,  another  creature,  too,  which  he  had  not  seen  in  his 
reconnaissance  at  the  bar  place  ! 

A  grand  old  sachem  of  the  herd  and  two  young  braves 
of  steers  had  been  in  the  wood  edge,  and  had  followed  the 
gentle  mothers  down.  The  big  horns  and  massive  brute 
forehead  of  the  patriarch  were  rearing  with  a  proud,  in 
vestigating  toss,  as  he  came  magnificently  through  the 
lane-way. 


GIRL-NOBLESSE.  229 

The  block-house  was  nearer  the  bank-wall  than  to  the 
upper  field  and  the  lane  by  nearly  three  fourths  of  the 
whole  distance. 

"  What  is  it,  Neal?  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  cried  June, 
hurriedly. 

"  They  're  well  caught  in  their  own  trap,"  he  answered. 
"  Now  let  'em  stay  awhile.  You  come  along  down."  And 
he  picked  up  an  armful  of  baskets  and  turned  to  descend 
the  cliff  pathway. 

Now  June  knew  that  they  were  in  the  block -house, 
though  she  had  spoken  truly  in  saying  that  they  had  left 
her  to  go  upon  the  knoll.  She,  too,  grasped  the  situation ; 
she  discerned  what  Neal  had  suspected  and  had  done. 

"You  —  mean  —  boy!  "  she  exclaimed,  in  bitter,  force 
ful  indignation.  There  is  nothing  so  keen,  so  cutting, 
cruel,  as  the  two-edged  sword  which  smites  at  once  an 
offender  and  the  offended,  loving  heart. 

If  she  had  not  said  that,  Neal  would  have  looked 
around,  at  least,  to  know  if  she  were  following ;  as  it 
was,  he  kept  his  head  quite  straight  away  from  her  and 
marched  on,  disappearing  down  the  rapid  slope.  June 
gave  one  swiftly  measuring  gaze  upward,  and  then  sprang 
to  the  low  wall,  scaled  it,  —  scarce  knowing  where  the 
tips  of  feet  and  fingers  clung,  —  and  flew  along  the 
ground  to  the  block-house.  She  felt  sure  they  were  in  the 
cellar  and  would  not  see.  She  rounded  the  building  in  a 
flash,  and  darted  in  at  the  open  door. 

"  Amabel !  Hester  !"  she  called.  "Come,  quick!  There 
are  cattle  in  the  field  !  Hurry  !  hurry  !  They  're  stand 
ing  still  and  feeding  ;  you  can  get  out ;  only  make  haste  !  " 

The  bull  was  at  the  lane  foot ;  he  paused  there,  with 
his  stately  air  of  survey ;  he  gave  a  low  snort  of  question ; 
he  sniffed,  as  if  suspecting  something  for  his  interference. 

June  stood  in  the  doorway,  watching ;  calling  eagerly 


230  HOMESPUN  YARNS. 

again  to  her  companions,  who  lingered,  —  Hester  divided 
between  the  distress  of  her  loss  and  her  fear  of  the  cattle. 

"  Girls  !  come  !     He  's  moving  !  " 

That  masculine  pronoun  sent  them  up  with  a  struggle. 
Hester  clambered  out  of  the  trap,  pushed  up  by  Amabel ; 
then  was  actually  on  the  point  of  rushing  forth,  leaving 
Amabel  to  her  own  unaided  effort. 

"Shame!  stop!"  cried  Junia,  in  a  voice  that  her 
school-fellow  never  —  she  herself  scarcely  ever  till  to-day 
—  had  known  for  hers.  "  Take  hold  of  her  other  hand !  " 

June  already  had  Amabel  by  one  hand ;  and  Hester, 
constrained  doubly, — for  she  could  not  have  confronted 
the  creatures  alone,  —  obeyed.  Meantime,  the  Bos  (is 
that  what  "  boss  "  comes  from  ?)  seeing  and  hearing  and 
moving  with  something  more  of  purpose,  was  tramping 
down  toward  the  open  doorway.  The  three  girls  saw 
him  so,  as  they  turned,  and  not  twenty  paces  from  the 
entrance. 

"  Oh,  we  can't !  "  cried  Amabel. 

"  He  '11  come  in  !  "  shrieked  Hester. 

"  Go  up  the  ladder,"  said  June  ;  and  remarked  as  in  a 
dream,  as  she  said  it,  how  that  other  June  and  Mabel 
Dunham  had  gone  up  that  very  ladder,  into  that  very  loft, 
long  before,  in  the  old  time  in  the  story.  It  was  as  if  it 
had  stood  there  a  hundred  years,  waiting  for  them  to 
come  back  and  live  their  terrors  over  again  together. 

Hester  and  Mabel  hurried  up ;  June  came  last.  Then 
the  great  animal  actually  walked  in  upon  the  floor  below, 
and  raised  his  voice  in  a  mutter  that  trembled  along  the 
timbers  under  their  feet. 

Hester  cried.  Amabel  shook  with  fright.  June  went 
over  to  a  loop-hole  that  looked  toward  the  flat.  "  There 
is  no  danger,"  she  said,  quietly,  and  reached  out  through 
the  narrow  aperture,  waving  her  white  handkerchief. 


GIRL-NOBLESSE.  231 

Amabel  looked  at  her  watch.  "  It  is  a  quarter  to  five 
now,"  she  said  ;  ''  and  this  is  slow,  too." 

There  was  nobody  in  sight.  The  flat  was  cleared,  and 
they  were  all  down  upon  the  shore,  hidden  and  unseeing 
beneath  the  high,  overhanging  rocks. 

June  absolutely  smiled.  "Block -house  good;  got  no 
scalp,"  she  quoted.  "  They  '11  soon  come  up,  and  miss  us. 
And  there'll  be  Mrs.  Singlewell's  wise  halt-hour." 

She  picked  up  a  strip  of  old  split  board  that  lay  near, 
pulled  her  handkerchief  fast  into  a  cleft  at  its  end,  and 
thrust  it  far  out  through  the  opening. 

"  Chiefie  will  take  care,"  June  said  again. 

She  spoke  his  name  proudly  and  tenderly,  sorry  in  her 
heart  for  her  quick  bitterness,  and  sure  of  how  sorry  he 
would  be  for  any  trouble  to  her. 

"  The  worst  that  could  happen  would  be  for  him  to  have 
to  go  up  to  the  farm,  and  us  to  get  belated.  But  we  know 
the  Ronnquists,  and  they  '11  take  care  of  us,  somehow. " — 
It 's  so  like  the  story,  Mabel !  "  she  added,  with  a  loving 
movement  toward  the  girl,  that  might  have  been  the  gen 
tle  grace  of  the  Tuscarora  June  herself. 

This  half  comforted  Hester.  If  she  could  only  have 
one  more  search,  —  properly,  with  a  light,  —  and  if  then 
they  could  only  get  to  Nonnusquam  before  Blanche  Hardy, 
the  next  day  !  Blanche  Hardy  was  so  "  awfully  "  true, 
—  so  hard  on  any  little  slip  or  quibble.  She  began  to  feel 
quite  bold  with  the  reaction  ;  and  to  her  small  nature  the 
rebound  from  fear  was  impulse  to  some  safe  insolence. 
She  stamped  upon  the  floor,  below  which  the  great  beast 
was  tramping.  She  even  went  to  the  upper  trap-way  and 
through  the  opening  began  to  unfurl  her  parasol,  with 
which  she  had  been  groping  in  the  cellar. 

"  Pester  More  !  "  cried  June,  using  involuntarily  and 
most  appropriately  Neal's  sobriquet,  "  do  you  know  what 
you  're  about  ?  That  cardinal-red  thing  !  " 


232  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

"  He  can't  touch  us  now,"  said  the  girl.  "  You  said 
so." 

"  Us  !  "  ejaculated  June,  contemptuously.  "  Somebody 
else  has  got  to  come,  I  suppose  you  know."  And  she  took 
the  sunshade  unceremoniously  into  her  own  keeping. 

Miss  Posackley's  little  conductor's  whistle  sounded  just 
before  the  half  hour.  The  prisoners  could  see  from  the 
loop-holes  the  gathering  from  different  directions,  as  the 
stragglers  came  in  sight  along  the  rocks  and  drew  toward 
the  pier. 

The  bull  was  pawing  and  snorting ;  occasionally  a  growl 
ing  bellow  broke  forth,  quite  audible  as  far  as  the  river ; 
and  the  three  girls  saw  many  a  quick  start  and  turn,  and  a 
general  air  of  huddling  and  questioning  among  their  com 
panions,  as  they  hurried  down  the  plank-way  and  pressed 
around  Miss  Posackley,  with  glances  backward,  and  point 
ings,  and  gestures  of  wonder,  if  not  of  apprehension. 

Miss  Posackley  looked  tranquil.  "  Down  in  the  meadow, 
probably,"  she  was  saying  ;  "  there  is  certainly  nothing  in 
sight." 

But  all  at  once  there  was  a  greater  stir ;  a  looking 
everywhere.  There  came  a  calling  of  voices. 

June  worked  her  heavy  flag-staff  up  and  down  with 
difficulty.  Then  a  dozen  fingers  pointed  to  the  block 
house  and  the  white  signal.  Then  Miss  Posackley  began 
to  flurry  and  agitate.  There  were  no  provisional  orders 
for  a  thing  like  this.  She  was  off  her  tramway. 

They  could  already  see  the  white  steam-wreath  of  the 
boat  stealing  along  behind  Long  Point,  a  mile  or  so  below. 
It  had  to  make  one  stop  at  Burt's  Landing ;  then  another 
five  minutes  would  bring  it  up.  It  was  a  little  in  advance 
of  its  usual  time  to-night. 

Neal  Royd  came  up  the  water-steps  from  the  river  to 
the  wharf.  There  had  been  no  prohibition  against  his 


GIRL-NOBLESSE.  233 

canoeing,  and  lie  had  gone  up  the  little  creek  beyond  the 
meadow,  thinking  to  reach  the  back-lying  farm-house  by 
the  shortest  way,  and  bring  down  help  to  get  the  cattle 
up  again.  Since  the  pasture-autocrat  had  appeared  upon 
the  scene,  the  conditions  were  changed.  The  girls  were 
safe  in  the  block-house,  but  to  release  them,  another  hand 
—  and  one  used  to  the  management  of  the  herd  —  might 
be  needed.  From  the  upland  path  into  which  he  struck 
on  leaving  his  canoe,  and  by  which,  in  a  few  minutes' 
walk,  he  gained  the  ridge,  he  looked  across  and  perceived, 
as  he  supposed,  the  whole  herd,  returned  meanwhile  into 
its  proper  pasture,  taking  its  slow  afternoon  way  along 
the  dips  and  windings  in  the  direction  of  the  twilight 
home-going.  Brush  copses  and  swells  of  land  prevented 
his  being  certain  of  individuals  or  of  the  entire  number ; 
but  the  open  level  about  the  block-house  was  in  full  view, 
and  was  quite  empty  of  intruders. 

He  had  crossed  to  the  head  of  the  lane,  a  little  beyond 
which  he  had  been  walking  while  on  the  ridge,  had  taken 
one  more  survey  downward,  put  up  the  bars  again,  and 
gone  back  to  his  boating,  relieved  of  further  responsibility. 

Rowing  down  under  the  woody  banks  of  the  creek,  and 
again  while  beneath  the  cliffs  upon  the  river,  he  heard, 
with  some  misgiving  of  uncertainty,  that  low  roar, 
muffled  in  the  distance.  Was  it  in  the  distance  of  the 
pasture  ? 

Springing  up  the  pier-steps,  he  saw  the  excited,  restless 
groups ;  the  roar  now  came  distinctly,  and  pronounced 
and  heavy  ;  the  handkerchief-flag  was  waved  once  —  and 
wildly  —  from  that  upper  aperture  in  the  block-house,  then 
hastily  dragged  in  by  its  clumsy  pole. 

Junia  was  missing  from  among  the  school-girls.  Neal 
saw  that  with  quick  eyes,  before  he  had  seemed  to  look  at 
all.  And  the  fact  that  she  was  missing  spurred  him  to 


234  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

instant  action.  He  ran  up  the  long  side  incline  of  the 
roadway,  and  leaped  the  wall  into  the  block-house  field. 

June's  voice  came  clear  and  shrill  from  the  loop-hole. 

"  Keep  away,  Neal !  He  's  angry  now.  Don't  come 
alone.  We  're  safe  up  here  ;  only  bring  somebody  soon !  " 

Neal  leaped  the  wall  again,  and  ran  down  to  Miss 
Fidelia. 

"  You  had  better  leave  this  to  me,  Miss  Posackley,"  he 
.said.  "  Let  Zibbie  stay,  to  look  after  the  young  ladies. 
I  '11  get  some  one  from  the  farm,  if  I  can't  do  better. 
There  's  a  train  up  from  Hopegood's  at  seven  ;  Ben  Ronn- 
quist  will  take  us  over  ;  let  somebody  meet  us  at  the  Cor 
ners.  Or,  if  we  should  miss  that,  Mrs.  Ronnquist  will 
keep  the  girls  safe  till  morning.  You  need  n't  be  the  least 
uneasy.  The  old  block-house  is  good  for  a  worse  siege, 
and  you  see  they  know  what  they  're  about !  I'll  run  no 
risk." 

Miss  Posackley  vibrated,  rotated.  Her  bonnet  whirled 
like  a  weather-vane  between  the  opposite  quarters  of  her 
alarmed  anxieties.  From  the  block-house  came  the  hor 
rible  brute  voice  ;  from  the  advancing  steamer  the  warning 
shriek  of  its  arrival. 

"  Go  on,  girls  !  "  Neal  shouted,  without  ceremony,  to  the 
hesitating  damsels.  "  Go  on  board  at  once.  Come  here, 
Zibbie." 

By  the  pure  force  of  his  decision  he  had  his  way ;  Miss 
Posackley's  young  ladies  turned,  with  shuddering  submis 
sion,  to  the  gang-plank.  Miss  Posackley  gave  one  or  two 
more  spasmodic  spins,  and  followed.  She  took  in  the 
wisdom  of  her  forced  conclusion  gradually  as  she  calmed. 
By  the  time  she  reported  herself  at  Nonnusquam,  she  had 
innocently  adopted  it  as  her  own.  "  It  was  the  only  thing 
to  be  done,"  she  said.  And  the  next  day,  when  all  was 
safe,  and  Mrs.  Singlewell  had  returned  to  hear  the  story, 


GIRL-NOBLESSE.  235 

the  subject  had  so  grown  upon  her  that  she  covered  herself 
with  quiet  glory. 

"  It  was  no  time  to  hesitate,"  she  explained.  "  If  there 
had  been  a  minute  more  of  excitement,  we  all  might  have 
been  left." 

"  You  acted  most  wisely  and  promptly,  Miss  Posackley," 
said  Mrs.  Singlewell,  amazed  at  the  fact  in  her  own  mind. 
"  But  there  is  never  any  knowing,"  she  said  to  herself, 
"  what  latent  energies  a  great  emergency  may  draw  forth." 

Miss  Posackley  took  the  commendation  with  a  meek 
pleasure.  She  had  had  no  idea  of  falsifying ;  she  simply 
had  not  seen  herself  as  a  weather-vane. 

There  is  not  very  much  more  to  be  told  of  this  little 
analogy  of  adventure  and  character. 

Neal,  left  alone  in  command,  considered  briefly,  then 
ordered  his  campaign.  He  did  not  like  to  leave  the  girls 
alone  with  their  formidable  neighbor  and  their  own  nerves, 
safe  though  they  were  from  actual  danger ;  nor  would 
Zibbie  consent  to  be  "  left  around  loose  with  that  old  ring- 
in-the-nose."  He  approached  the  block-house  on  the  lower 
side,  and  called  up  to  the  loop-hole  : 

"  June  !  Fling  out  a  scarf,  or  something ;  red,  if  you 
have  it." 

June  poked  out  Hester's  cardinal  sunshade. 

"  This  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Just  the  ticket.     Drop  it !  " 

"  But  oh,  Chiefie  !  Please  take  care  !  Don't  be  ven 
turesome  !  " 

"  Don't  worry  nor  weep,  June.  The  harbor  bar  is  n't 
moaning."  And  with  the  ambiguous  comfort  of  this  allu 
sion  he  seized  the  red  parasol  and  made  swift  way  around 
the  field  to  the  head  of  the  lane,  let  down  the  bars  again, 
and  came  through  walking  toward  the  block-house.  He 
watched  his  moment  when  the  creature  faced  toward  him, 
and  then  unfurled  the  parasol  and  waved  it  defiantly. 


236  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

"  Auld  Hornie  "  thought,  perhaps,  it  was  a  girl-enemy  ; 
at  any  rate,  he  took  the  bait  and  challenge,  and  made 
furiously  for  the  insolent  hit  of  color. 

Neal  rushed  up  the  narrow  way,  well  ahead  of  him, 
through  the  hars,  and  along  by  the  wall,  for  a  sufficient 
distance  ;  then  he  jumped  into  the  corn-field,  and  thence 
back  into  the  lane ;  and  he  had  the  bars  up  while  the  bull 
was  still  following  his  roundabout  track,  and  raging  at  its 
doublings  and  interceptions.  And  in  a  moment  more 
Neal  returned,  demurely  holding  over  his  head  the  red 
sunshade,  somewhat  damaged  by  its  flight  across  two 
fences,  to  find  the  block-house  garrison  just  cautiously 
and  timidly  emerging  from  its  shelter. 

He  gave  the  parasol  to  his  sister  without  apology,  and 
ignoring  ownership. 

"  Come  along  now ;  we  've  no  time  to  lose,"  he  said, 
and  led  the  way  to  the  rough  cart-road,  and  up  its  rutty 
ascent  to  the  farm  buildings,  visible  half  a  mile  off  upon 
the  hill. 

As  they  walked,  he  made  opportunity  to  come  into  line 
with,  but  scarcely  alongside,  Miss  Hester  Moore.  He 
drew  something  from  his  pocket,  which  he  held  out  to  her 
at  a  fair  arm's  length,  as  if  he  had  another  dangerous 
creature  to  deal  with. 

"  You  may  as  well  have  this  back,"  he  said.  "  Two 
mean  things  don't  make  a  smart  one." 

Hester  clutched  the  trinket  eagerly,  then  flamed  at  him  : 

"  Two  mean  things  !     Then  you  let  in  those  cattle  !  " 

"  Well,  I  did.  But  that  was  n't  the  mean  thing  I 
meant."  And  he  left  her,  scorning  to  explain  himself,  or 
to  rebuke  her  further. 

"  A  regular  meanie  can't  be  made  to  be  ashamed,"  he 
said  to  June  afterward.  "  I  give  it  up." 

Ben  Ronnquist,  when  he  had  heard  from  Neal  the  par- 


GIRL-NOBLESSE.  237 

ticulars  of  their  having  been  left  behind  by  the  boat, 
hitched  his  horse  to  the  broad-seated  family  wagon,  which 
was  to  take  them  to  the  cars.  Hester  and  Amabel  were 
helped  in  first.  A  small  boy  was  to  go  with  the  team  to 
bring  it  back ;  and  there  was  also  Zibbie  to  ride  in  front 
with  Neal. 

"  I  wonder  if  there  's  room  in  here  for  June  ?  "  Hester 
asked,  disfavoringly,  from  behind,  when  she  and  Amabel 
were  seated. 

"  Well,  I  guess  there  'd  better  be  !  "  said  Neal  Roughead, 
in  a  short,  strong  way. 

Whether  she  took  a  cue  at  last  from  this  utterance,  or 
whether  with  her,  as  with  Miss  Posackley,  the  things  that 
had  been  beyond  her  began  to  come  to  her  by  degrees,  at 
least  in  so  far  as  to  reveal  to  her  certain  probabilities  of  a 
knowledge  that  might  be  power,  Miss  Moore  sat  awhile  in 
the  darkness,  silent ;  and  she  spoke  at  length  in  quite  dif 
ferent  fashion. 

"  We  've  seen  a  good  deal  of  each  other  to-day,  June. 
We  '11  get  together  rather  more  after  this,  I  think." 

"  Will  we  ?  "  responded  simple  June.  "  It 's  only  peo 
ple  that  belong  that  get  together,  I  think.  To-day  was 
an  accident." 

After  they  were  in  the  cars,  Amabel  came  and  took  a 
place  by  June.  There  was  plenty  of  room  ;  Hester,  Zib 
bie,  and  Neal  had  each  a  whole  seat. 

"  Don't  you  think,  Junie,  that  people  who  want  to,  get 
to  '  belong  '  ?  I  'd  like  to  '  belong  '  to  people  like  you  and 
Neal." 

"  Neal  is  a  dear  chiefie,"  responded  gentle  June. 

("  Arrowhead  great  chief,"  had  said  the  Tuscarora 
woman  in  the  story.) 

When  Blanche  Hardy  heard  of  June's  behavior  at  the 


238  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

block-house,  she  came  to  her,  —  not  with  sudden  patroniz 
ing,  or  conscious  compliment  of  approval,  but  with  the 
warm  impulse  of  like  to  like. 

She  stopped  where  June  was  standing,  laid  a  hand 
lightly  on  her  shoulder  and  another  on  her  arm,  leaning 
toward  her  as  if  drawn. 

"  You  were  courageous  to  do  that,"  she  said.  "  And 
generous." 

June  flushed  brightly,  but  answered  simply : 

"  I  was  not  afraid.  And  how  could  I  do  anything 
else  ?  " 

Then  Blanche  Hardy  leaned  closer  and  kissed  her. 
"  You  could  n't,  I  know,"  she  said. 

Now  "Blanche  Hardy,  from  pure  height  of  character 
and  its  noble  presence  and  showing,  was  the  real  queen  of 
the  school,  —  not  by  any  means  merely  of  a  little  artificial 
clique. 

From  that  day  June  went  —  naturally  and  as  one 
"  belonging  "  —  up  higher.  Blanche  Hardy  became  her 
fast  and  intimate  friend.  Nobody,  any  more,  could  snub 
or  condescend  to  her.  She  was  of  a  peerage  above  clan 
or  coterie.  Yet  she  remained  in  all  sweet  loyalty  and 
non-pretense  as  aboriginal  as  ever. 

Amabel,  loving  and  seeking  June  also,  was  won  to  her 
own  true  place  among  those  who  "  belonged  "  through  the 
longing  to  be. 

It  is  only  the  half,  or  spurious,  attainment,  like  half 
faith,  or  cant,  that  holds  itself  within  marked  and  exclud 
ing  lines  ;  the  true  noblesse  is  as  catholic  as  the  household 
of  God's  saints. 

In  Cooper's  story,  the  miscreant  Muir  had  died.  All 
deaths  are  not  by  tomahawking.  There  is  a  deeper  de 
cease  by  very  miscreancy  itself.  I  have  nothing  further 


GIRL-NOBLESSE.  239 

that  it  really  matters  to  mention  concerning  Miss  Pester 
More.  Of  course  her  disobedience  in  returning  to  the 
block-house  was  punished  with  an  appropriate  school  pen 
alty  and  disgrace  ;  notwithstanding  that  she  muttered 
some  blundering  expostulation  about  "  going  back  for 
something  she  had  dropped,  —  that  did  n't  belong  to  her,  — 
her  sister  lent  her."  She  did  not  dare  to  make  a  broader 
statement,  or  to  emphasize  the  importance  of  her  excuse  ; 
she  only  smooched  herself  feebly  with  that  additional 
blackening  of  falsehood  ;  and  as  she  spoke,  met  Junia 
Royd's  eyes  that  flashed  a  swift,  unconscious,  condemning 
astonishment  at  her.  She  was  glad,  then,  to  smother 
her  half-remonstrance  in  silence.  After  that  day  she  fell 
off  from  Junia,  not  as  one  who  turns  from  that  which  is 
unworthy  or  inferior,  but  as  Lucifer  might  slink  away 
from  Michael. 

Junia  never  uttered  word  again  even  to  Neal  concern 
ing  the  affair  of  the  watch  ;  it  seemed  a  thing  quite  cov 
ered,  an  exposure  quite  escaped.  But  a  bird  of  the  air 
was  abroad,  in  some  flitting  invisibility,  in  the  atmosphere 
of  the  little  school  world ;  and  "  something  queer  about 
it  "  grew  to  be  a  tacit  conclusion  and  an  unspoken  public 
opinion.  Blanche  Hardy  and  Grace  Vanderbroke  had  an 
especial  quiet  way  and  look  when  Hester  happened  near 
or  her  name  was  spoken.  "  They  knew  something,"  the 
girls  thought  ;  and  without  investigation  or  explanation, 
we  may  safely  assume  they  did. 

So,  morally  —  and  that  is  the  only  way  that  is  of  reality 
or  consequence  —  Hester  Moore  died,  and  went  to  her 
own  place. 

It  is  human  nature  that  repeats  itself  in  young  or  old, 
in  wild  or  civilized ;  history  and  romance  are  but  the 
facts  and  pictures  of  it. 


SALLY  GIBSON'S  SPUNK. 

A  BOARDING-SCHOOL  STORY  IN  EIGHT  CHAPTERS. 

I. 

THE  stage  came  in  late  at  Oakhaven  on  the  river.  The 
Girls'  School  would  be  all  quiet  under  night  rules ;  and 
Mrs.  Gibson  went  at  once  with  Sally  to  the  Mansion  House. 
At  any  other  time  Sally  would  have  been  delighted.  She 
had  never  been  in  a  hotel  in  her  life.  This  was  almost  fifty 
years  ago,  in  the  days  of  real  stages  and  hotels ;  when 
travelers  were  few  and  of  consequence,  and  broiled  chick 
ens  were  genuine,  and  omelettes  a  true  delicacy,  and  a 
mystery  to  modest  private  tables. 

To  arrive  at  nine  o'clock,  have  a  chicken  and  toast  sup 
per  ;  to  go  up  two  flights  of  broad  stairs,  and  along  great 
wide  entries  to  her  bedroom ;  to  get  up  to  omelette  and 
coffee  and  waffles  for  breakfast,  at  a  long  table  with  twenty 
other  illustrious  persons  who  were  away  from  home  and 
out  in  the  world,  would  have  been  a  point  at  once  of  history 
and  romance  to  Sally,  even  if  she  had  not  come  to  Oak- 
haven  to  become  a  boarding-school  girl  at  Miss  Wilcroft's 
seminary. 

A  traveler  was  something  ;  it  was  very  well ;  but  a  board 
ing-school  girl  was  a  heroine  of  adventure,  a  creature  to 
make  a  story  out  of. 

Her  cousin,  Felicia  Ingram,  had  preceded  her  here.  She 
had  used  to  stop  at  Rexford  on  her  way,  each  half-year, 
from  Boston,  and  stay  a  night  with  Sally ;  a  night  in  which 


SALLY  GIBSON'S  SPUNK.  241 

the  two  girls  slept  scarcely  a  wink.  The  well-packed  trunk 
was  routed  to  the  bottom,  the  new  gowns  displayed,  the 
neckerchiefs  tried  on,  and  the  gifts  of  ornaments  Felicia 
had  had  in  the  holidays  admired.  And.  best  of  all,  the 
bags  and  packages  of  "  goodies,"  that  were  to  astonish  the 
country  scholars  with  city  confections,  were  brought  forth, 
plentiful  enough  to  spare  a  half-way  feast  with  cousin 
Sally. 

But  the  trunk  and  the  goodies  were  nothing  to  the 
stories.  All  the  daring  "  scrapes,"  all  the  jolly  feast- 
ings,  the  games,  and  the  excursions,  and  the  friendships, 
and  the  quarrels ;  who  roomed  with  whom,  and  how  the 
bedrooms  ranged  along  the  "  upper  hall "  and  through 
"  the  wing ; "  what  number  Filly's  was  last  term,  and 
which  she  meant  to  get  this  ;  above  all,  her  comradeship 
with  the  very  specimen  girl,  and  queen  of  the  whole  frol 
icking  set,  whose  school-name  was  "  Crack,"  and  made 
with  her  the  sublime  style  and  copartnership  of  "  Crack 
and  Fling."  Quite  naturally,  you  see  :  Cora  Ackworth 
and  Felicia  Ingram. 

"  I  wonder  what  they  would  call  me,"  Sally  said  once. 
"  Anything,  do  you  think  ?  " 

"That  would  depend:  you 'd  have  to  earn  it.  There 
is  n't  much  to  make  it  out  of.  Stop,  let 's  see  !  Why, 
your  middle  name  is  Punchard,  is  n't  it  ?  It 's  perfectly 
splendid  !  You  'd  be  Spunk  !  That  is,  if  you  were 
spunky." 

"  I  would  be.  Sally  Punchard  ought  to  be."  And  no 
knight  of  chivalry  ever  made  his  vow  with  more  earnest 
devotion. 

Felicia  did  not  know  a  certain  old  story  —  or  perhaps  it 
had  never  made  such  impression  upon  her  that  she  could 
recall  it  now  —  which  came  to  Sally's  mind   and   made 
her  say  this.     And  Sally  did  not  tell  it  over  again  then. 
1C 


242  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

She  only  asked,  presently,  as  if  asking  it  of  herself,  "  I 
wonder  if  they  did  n't  call  her  '  Spunk  '  ?  Perhaps  they 
did  for  a  while,  before  she  grew  old  ;  but  for  anybody  to 
call  my  grandmother  anything  but  '  Madam  Sally  Punch- 
ard ' ! " 

Felicia  had  gone  now  to  New  York.  Her  sister,  ten 
years  older,  was  married  there,  and  was  to  take  Felicia  in 
charge  for  social  training,  for  lessons  and  accomplishments. 
Altogether,  Oakhaven  and  the  copartnership  had  not  done 
for  the  girl  precisely  what  had  been  expected,  which  was 
not  the  fault  of  Oakhaven  or  Miss  Wilcroft. 

And  Sally  scarcely  ate  or  slept  at  the  Mansion  House, 
so  eager  she  was  to  get  to  the  Wilcroft  School,  be  fairly 
enrolled,  take  her  place  as  one  of  "the  girls,"  and  begin 
her  pranks. 

Crack  was  there  still,  and  she  hoped  for  the  high  honor 
of  her  friendship.  Felicia  had  promised  to  write  about 
her  and  tell  Crack  she  was  coming.  She  even  proposed 
to  suggest  the  sobriquet  which  Sally  longed  to  be  degreed 
with  ;  but  Sally  said,  valorously,  "  No,  she  would  earn  it." 

"  You  'd  better  spell  your  name  i  e"  said  Felicia. 
"  All  the  girls  are  getting  to.  I  'm  Felicie  in  New  York. 
Lucie  has  started  it  for  me.  She  's  been  i  e  for  ever  so 
long  ;  though  it  don't  make  much  difference,  unless  you  're 
very  French  and  particular  in  the  accent." 

"  No,  I  won't,"  said  Sally,  stoutly.  "  I  won't  have  any 
lie  tacked  on  to  me,  whatever  I  do.  "  I  '11  be  Spunk  if  I 
can,  but  I  won't  be  that.  I  was  named  for  Grandma,  and 
I  'm  Sally  Punchard,  and  I  '11  stick  to  it." 

"  You  can't  at  Oakhaven.  You  '11  have  to  be  Sarah, 
anyhow,  on  parade.  Nicknames  are  against  the  rules. 
That 's  the  very  fun  of  'em." 

"  They  can't  make  me  Sarah  any  more  than  they  can 
make  me  Sapphira.  And  they  won't  try." 


SALLY   GIBSON'S  SPUNK.  243 

Sally  said  it  quietly,  but  she  meant  it.  She  generally 
did  mean  things.  Felicia  saw  that  there  was  no  danger  but 
that  she  would  begin  on  her  spunk  at  once,  and  almost  too 
thoroughly.  Only  the  girls  might  not  hit  on  that  splendid 
combination  with  the  middle  name.  Sally  was  afraid  of 
it  herself,  and  that  was  just  why  she  said  she  would  never 
"  punch  the  Punchard  at  them." 

Miss  "Wilcroft  came  to  them  in  the  parlor  when  Mrs. 
Gibson  sent  word  modestly,  without  card,  that  they  were 
there.  Miss  Wilcroft  was  very  courteous  ;  as  much  so  to 
plain  Mrs.  Gibson  of  the  Three  Hill  Farm  at  Rexford,  as 
she  had  ever  been  to  Dr.  Ingram  of  Boston,  or  Mrs.  Sen 
ator  Ackworth  of  Birksfield.  Mrs.  Gibson  was  a  mother 
leaving  her  child  in  her  care.  That  was  as  much  as  any 
body  could  be. 

Miss  Wilcroft  was  a  lady  of  forty,  perhaps.  She  wore 
what  ladies  of  forty  were  apt  to  wear  in  those  days,  when 
neither  dyeing  nor  gray  hair  was  fashionable,  —  a  cap  and 
a  glossy  brown  front.  The  brown  front  was  quietly  parted, 
and  the  cap  was  a  neat  little  one  tied  under  the  chin,  and 
ornamented  in  the  lace  border  with  rose-pink  ribbons. 

She  was  peculiarly  nice  and  refined  in  word  and  manner ; 
and  she  smiled  a  smile  that  in  its  sweetness  had  a  look  of 
rarity  —  one  that  a  good  school-girl  would  be  glad  to  earn. 
But  our  Sally  was  not  thinking  just  then  of  earning 
smiles. 

Miss  Wilcroft  did  not,  in  the  girl's  presence,  talk  the  girl 
over  with  her  mother.  She  rang  the  bell,  and  sent  for 
Miss  Southernwood,  introduced  the  pupils  to  each  other, 
and  bade  the  elder  take  the  new  one  to  her  room,  which 
she  would  share,  —  No.  5,  in  the  wing. 

It  sounded  very  fine  to  Sally.  She  was  numbered,  lo 
cated.  She  belonged  now.  She  was  of  No.  5,  in  the  wing. 
If  she  had  inherited  an  estate  and  title  in  England,  she 


244  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

would  have  felt  no  stronger  impression  of  her  place  and 
dignity  in  the  world. 

If  Miss  Wilcroft  had  known  quite  thoroughly  what  El 
len  Southernwood  was,  or  what  Sally  Gibson's  ambitions 
were,  she  might  not  have  paired  the  room-mates  as  she 
did.  But  the  wisest  can  only  act  from  one  standpoint  of 
wisdom,  commonly. 

Miss  Wilcroft  knew  Miss  Southernwood  for  a  well-man 
nered  girl,  tolerably  subservient  to  the  rules,  only  a  little 
beyond  her  years  in  certain  would-be-young-lady  ways; 
fond  of  dress,  and  the  company  of  the  grown  ones  of  the 
gayer  sort,  who  dressed  and  visited  most ;  apt  to  make 
acquaintance  out  of  school,  and  get  invited  in  the  town. 

Here  was  a  simple  country  girl,  fresh,  bright,  and  inde 
pendent.  They  would  counterbalance  each  other  as  fairly 
as  girls  ordinarily  could  be  made  to  do.  It  was  not  easy 
to  arrange  the  intimate  companionships  of  a  dozen  or  fifteen 
couples  according  to  the  most  perfect  and  salutary  laws  of 
influence  and  affinity.  The  man  who  had  but  one  fox, 
goose,  and  basket  of  corn  to  defend  from  each  other,  had 
an  easy  time  of  it. 

As  the  two  passed  up  the  staircase,  a  great  bustle  hap 
pened  at  the  door.  There  was  a  loud  ring,  a  rush  from 
the  sitting-room,  a  word  quickly  sent  along  from  mouth  to 
mouth  until  it  echoed  up  the  stairs,  and  a  gathering  at  the 
balusters  above  of  eager  figures  and  faces. 

"Crack's  come!"  was  the  cry;  a  little  repressed,  be 
cause  of  the  law  against  nicknames ;  but  the  leniency  of 
first  days,  and  the  unorganized  interval  in  which  term- 
rules  waited  their  solemn  and  regular  announcement,  gave 
a  liberty  that  there  were  enough  to  seize  and  use. 

"  Ah,  Biddy  !  You  're  back,  too  !  An'  whaur  's  me 
Hie'lan'  Laddie  ?  I  'm  to  have  the  same  room,  ain't  I  ? 
She  promised  I  should.  No.  2,  front  corner !  "  Cora 


SALLY  GIBSON'S  SPUNK.  245 

Ackworth  was  giving  her  own  directions  to  the  porter- 
boy,  when  the  stout  form  of  the  housekeeper  appeared, 
moving  grandly  upon  the  scene  from  the  unknown  regions 
beyond  the  staircase  below.  Cora  turned  playfully,  and 
embraced  her  portly  figure.  "  Dread  and  delight  of  me 
life  !  "  she  called  her,  saucily. 

If  Sally  Gibson  had  heard,  or  remarked,  in  the  con 
fusion  of  names  and  greetings,  how  that  stately  and  be 
nignant  woman  was  addressed,  she  might  have  compre 
hended  the  point  of  Cora's  first  inquiry  after  her,  and 
might  not  have  done  the  extraordinary  thing  herself 
which  she  did  do  two  hours  later. 

Cora  came  flying  up  the  stairs,  gave  Miss  Southern 
wood  a  whirl,  kissed  her,  called  her  "  Boy's  love,"  and 
then  drew  her  significantly  back  into  a  recess  at  the  stair 
head  with  a  whisper.  It  evidently  had  to  do  with  the 
new-comer.  Crack  was  a  girl  to  have  a  quick  eye  for  the 
new  ones,  and  a  joke  ready. 

"  Mind  you  do !  "  she  cried,  as  they  turned  different 
ways  along  the  passage.  "  I  was  in  hopes  there  'd  be  one ; 
of  course  I  knew  there  would ;  but  Imndy,  you  know. 
I  've  had  that  handy  this  half  hour.  Is  n't  it  complete  ?  " 

"  Crack,  I  don't  believe  I  dare  !  " 

"  Dare  !  "  repeated  Crack.  There  is  no  especial  type 
which  will  represent  that  mixture  of  incredulity,  challenge, 
spur,  and  threatened  contempt.  But  the  school-girl  ear 
translated  it ;  and  after  that  Nellie  Southernwood  did  not 
dare  to  fail  of,  or  to  encounter,  what  it  signified. 

II. 

Sally  could  hardly  spare  time  to  realize  the  parting 
with  her  mother,  who  was  to  return  to  Rexford  by  the 
noon  stage.  She  cried  a  little,  and  there  was  a  pitiful 


246  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

ache  at  her  heart  for  a  minute,  when  she  saw  the  black 
silk  dress  and  the  best  shawl  disappear  so  quietly  out  of 
the  gateway  and  down  the  road ;  the  dear  mother  walk 
ing  off,  lonely,  to  take  her  eight  hours'  journey,  presently, 
without  Sally  ;  because  Sally  was  to  get  such  a  six  months' 
good  here  at  the  Young  Ladies'  Seminary  of  Oakhaven. 
Something  twinged,  too,  with  a  fleeting  sense  of  the  dif 
ference  between  her  mother's  hope  about  it  and  her  own. 
Yet  she  meant  to  study,  and  not  to  do  anything  that  she 
or  her  mother  could  really  be  ashamed  of. 

Nell  Southernwood  took  her  over  from  the  boarding- 
house  to  the  Seminary  building,  —  a  pretty  stone  struc 
ture,  set  at  the  head  of  an  ellipse  of  miniature  park,  fenced 
in  with  a  walk  around  it ;  and  at  back  and  sides  looking 
forth  into  a  green,  shady  orchard  space.  Its  four  doors 
opened  each  way  upon  its  four  aspects. 

Sally  was  shoAvn  through  the  great  L-shaped  school 
room,  filled  with  rows  of  desks,  and  including  two  of  the 
wide  orchard  doors,  glazed  half-way ;  the  gymnasium 
room,  very  simple  in  its  appliances  in  those  days,  upon 
the  opposite  side ;  the  music-room  in  the  front  corner, 
communicating,  so  that  the  piano  was  played  for  the 
marching  exercises ;  the  centre  room,  open  to  the  high 
skylight,  and  railed  above,  making  a  gallery  of  the  re 
maining  extent  of  the  upper  floor,  in  whose  four  sides 
were  ranged  the  benches  and  platforms  used  hy  the  school 
upon  its  great  examination  day,  when  the  arches  of  the 
windows  and  the  rails  of  the  balustrade  were  all  hung 
with  garlands  of  green  and  flowers. 

"  And  we  all  have  new  dresses,  and  the  whole  town 
comes,  and  the  hotel  is  full  of  friends  of  the  girls  ;  and 
the  best  scholars  get  the  best  of  it  then,  though  we  have 
our  fun  all  term-time.  I  don't  belong  to  the  prize-set, 
I  may  as  well  tell  you.  I  go  for  a  good  time  as  I  go 


SALLY   GIBSON'S  SPUNK.  247 

along.  But  when  they  come  to  the  music,  they  can't  do 
without  me  ;  and  the  music  is  in  the  evening,  and  the 
piano  is  on  the  platform  in  the  corner  of  the  L-room,  all 
arbored  over  with  green  ;  and  the  seats  and  aisles  are  all 
just  jammed  with  spectators,  and  the  girls  who  play  and 
sing  have  wreaths  in  their  hair ;  and  it  is  n't  everybody 
that  has  a  part  that  night." 

And  Miss  Southernwood  sat  down  to  the  open  piano 
in  the  room  where  they  had  stopped,  and  rattled  off  an 
amazing  quickstep.  She  was  just  plunging  into  a  hurri 
cane  of  variations,  when  a  bell  rang. 

"  ^-7  gracious  me !  "  she  exclaimed,  starting  up  and 
flinging  down  a  crashing  chord  by  way  of  period.  "  That 's 
dinner  !  I  never  heard  the  dressing-bell,  did  you  ?  But 
we  don't  need  to  dress  to-day.  We  're  in  our  just-come 
gowns,  and  have  n't  been  chalking  on  blackboards,  or 
mending  lead-pencils.  Come  !  "  And  she  hurried  Sally 
down  the  avenue  and  in  at  the  side  piazza  door.  In  the 
little  cloak-lobby,  before  they  reached  the  long  room,  she 
stopped. 

"  I  forgot !"  she  exclaimed  again;  "I  was  to  tell  you 
of  a  rule.  After  Miss  Wilcroft  has  said  the  blessing,  the 
first  girl  on  Miss  Ferrington's  right  hand  —  that's  the 
teacher  at  the  opposite  end  of  the  table  —  is  to  rise  and 
say  a  Scripture  text.  Something  about  food,  or  daily 
bread,  or  manna  in  the  wilderness,  or  that  sort ;  what  we 
•want,  and  what  we  get,  you  know.  You  'd  better  recol 
lect  something  quick,  for  you  '11  as  likely  as  not  be  the 
very  one.  The  new  ones  are  always  put  there-  It  '11  be 
the  next  girl's  turn  to-morrow." 

Sally's  heart  beat  a  little  at  this,  plucky  as  she  meant 
to  be  ;  and  as  the  crowd  of  girls,  nearly  all  arrived  now, 
poured  in  and  took  places  at  the  long  table,  finding  their 
napkins,  and  their  names  upon  their  plates,  and  she  dis- 


248  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

covered  hers  at  the  very  corner  she  apprehended,  she  felt 
the  throb  quite  up  in  her  ears  and  struggling  with  her 
breath. 

The  stout  housekeeper  sat  at  the  middle  of  the  opposite 
side ;  before  her  two  large  dishes  of  broiled  fish ;  up  and 
down,  at  intervals,  were  arranged  cut  loaves  of  bread. 
Covered  dishes  stood  at  the  sides,  but  the  fish  and  bread 
were  all  that  were  revealed. 

Only  one  possible  thing  entered  and  took  possession  of 
Sally's  head.  She  could  remember  nothing  at  that  mo 
ment  of  the  whole  Bible,  except  the  story  of  the  loaves  and 
fishes. 

Heads  were  bent  while  Miss  Wilcroft  said  the  little 
prayer  for  blessing,  and  then  came  the  instant's  pause  be 
fore  the  helping  began. 

Up  like  a  rocket,  in  her  desperation,  sprang  Sally  Gib 
son,  feeling  that  it  must  be  done,  and  that  she  would  not 
be  silly  and  shamefaced  at  the  very  first  thing. 

"  There  is  a  lad  here  which  hath  five  barley  loaves  and 
two  small  fishes  ;  but  what  are  they  among  so  many  ?  " 

In  a  voice  a  little  shrill  with  excitement,  she  repeated 
these  words. 

There  was  an  awful  start,  and  then  a  hush  all  down  the 
table.  Some  girls  flushed  up  ;  some  really  turned  pale  ;  all 
stared ;  then  an  involuntary  laughter  broke  forth,  which, 
once  yielded  to,  became  almost  a  shout.  Miss  Wilcroft's 
rap  upon  the  table  silenced  it. 

"  That  will  do,"  she  remarked  gravely.  "  You  may  sit 
down,  Miss  Gibson." 

"  I  could  n't  think  of  anything  else  to  save  my  life," 
said  Sally,  in  a  low,  indefinite  tone,  and  dropping  into  her 
chair,  with  her  face  in  a  scarlet  flame. 

A  titter  began  again,  and  was  again  silenced. 

"Miss  Ladd, — we  wait,  —  if  you  please,"  said  Miss 
Wilcroft  to  the  housekeeper. 


SALLY  GIBSON'S  SPUNK.  249 

That,  then,  was  what  she  had  done !  And  this  was 
Miss  Gibson's  introduction  to  her  schoolmates.  Why  had 
not  Miss  Wilcroft  sent  her  away  from  the  table  ?  That 
would  have  been  mercy.  But  she  had  to  stay  and  eat  her 
dinner,  and  bear  those  swift  recurring  bayonet-thrusts  of 
twenty  pairs  of  school-girls'  eyes  ! 

There  was  one  girl  yet  more  secretly  uneasy  than  she, 
though  not  outwardly  so  abashed.  Nell  Southernwood 
knew  that  it  would  be  seen  through  as  a  hoax,  though 
Sally  had  unexpectedly  done  her  part  so  much  beyond 
perfection.  The  tracing  of  the  joke  would  be  direct 
enough. 

Miss  Southernwood  found  more  than  bones  in  her  por 
tion  of  fish  that  day,  to  make  her  eating  difficult.  As 
to  Crack,  she  was  in  suppressed  transports,  without  any 
mingling  of  fear  at  all.  She  was  the  leader  and  general 
of  the  pranking  party  ;  but  who  ever  expected  a  general 
to  come  under  fire,  or  to  follow  a  poor  little  skirmisher 
into  danger,  to  help  him  back  to  camp  ? 

Half-way  through  dinner,  a  carriage  was  heard  to  drive 
up,  and  the  hall-door  was  gently  opened.  A  trunk  was 
evidently  set  down  within,  and  then  the  door  closed,  and 
that  was  all,  until  five  minutes  later,  when  a  servant,  dis 
patched  by  Miss  Ladd,  returned  to  her  with  answer  that 
Miss  Summerway  had  arrived. 

"  That  was  so  like  Louise !  "  Miss  Wilcroft  said,  with 
a  soft  approval  in  her  tone,  as  Miss  Ladd  informed  her. 
"  Gentle,  unobtrusive,  always.  Will  she  come  to  dinner  ?  " 
And  just  as  she  spoke,  a  tall,  sweet-faced  girl,  in  a  dark 
lilac  mousseline  dress,  stood  for  a  second  in  the  door 
way,  and  in  response  to  Miss  Ladd's  friendly  beckoning 
passed  round,  with  a  modest  salutation  to  the  principal 
and  Miss  Ferrington,  to  a  vacant  place  at  the  house 
keeper's  side. 


250  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

An  old  scholar,  by  the  smiles  and  nods  of  welcome,  hut 
slipping  in  so  unpretentiously,  so  self-effacingly  almost, 
in  avoidance  of  any  confusion  for  her  sake. 

Sally  Gibson,  glad  of  a  new  interest  coming  forward, 
found  herself  questioning,  suddenly,  which  effect  she 
really  liked  the  best,  —  that  of  Miss  Ackworth's  dashing 
arrival,  or  this  grace  of  quietness  that  marked  Louise 
Summerway's.  Sally  had  got  to  choose  a  style  for  herself. 

She  was  at  that  facile  age  when  girls  of  her  tempera 
ment  can  choose  any  one  of  half  a  dozen  styles  —  which 
may  become,  if  persisted  in,  really  character  —  as  readily 
as  they  may  adopt  a  fashion  of  handwriting  ;  and  some 
times  they  do  successively  and  contradictorily  adopt  so 
many,  that  the  character,  or  the  handwriting,  becomes  a 
kind  of  polyscript. 

Just  now  she  was  contrasting  with  grief  Louise  Sum 
merway's  lovely  and  commended  bearing,  inheriting  its 
crown  by  its  meekness,  and  her  own  remarkable  exhibition 
of  herself,  which  came  by  her  ambition  for  readiness, 
prominence,  and  "  spunk."  But  her  ambition  held  her 
yet,  and  came  uppermost  presently  again. 

After  dinner,  Miss  Wilcroft  called  her  into  her  own 
sitting-room,  and  said  to  her,  quietly,  "  I  am  quite  sure, 
Miss  Gibson,  that  you  were  partly,  at  least,  the  victim  of 
a  joke  ;  and  I  cannot  think  that  a  perfect  stranger  would 
be  guilty  of  a  planned  impertinence  or  an  open  irreverence. 
You  did  not  know  Miss  Ladd's  name  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed,  ma'am,"  said  Sally,  earnestly,  with  her 
simple,  country-bred  breadth  upon  the  double  vowel. 

"  Nor  did  any  one  dictate  that  particular  text  to  you  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed,  ma'am,"  Sally  said  again.  "  I  only 
could  not  possibly  think  of  anything  else  when  I  saw  the 
loaves  and  fishes.  They  said  I  must  repeat  something 
appropriate.  But  please  don't  ask  me  who,"  she  added 


SALLY  GIBSON'S  SPUNK.  251 

quickly,  "  for  I  don't  mean  to  be  a  telltale,  if  I  am  a 
fool !  " 

Miss  Wilcroft  could  not  help  smiling.  "  I  do  not  ask 
you.  I  am  not  anxious  to  begin  with  discipline  so  soon. 
But  you  may  say,"  she  added,  gravely,  "  to  whomever  you 
think  it  may  concern,  that  I  shall  ask  the  whole  school 
who  has  originated  it,  if  another  such  joke  transpires." 

Sally  departed  with  a  lightened  heart.  She  met  Miss 
Ladd  in  the  hall,  and  walked  straight  up  to  her.  "  I  did 
not  know  the  least  thing  about  it,  Miss  Ladd,"  she  said. 
"  I  knew  it  was  dreadful,  anyway,  but  I  was  frightened 
off  my  head,  and  I  could  n't  help  saying  it." 

Miss  Ladd  laughed  good-naturedly  till  her  comely 
shoulders  shook.  Then  she  patted  Sally's  shoulder  kindly. 
"  We  can  afford  to  see  the  fun  of  it,  my  dear,  though  the 
fun  must  n't  happen  again ;  because  the  two  small  fishes 
were  not  quite  all  the  Ladd  had,  you  know,  in  this  case. 
Some  of  our  young  ladies  do  not  eat  fish,  and  some  of 
them  do  not  quite  so  easily  swallow  a  bait.  Only  don't 
go  and  set  yourself  up  on  a  wrong  pinnacle  because  you 
have  made  a  new  tradition  in  the  school. 

"  Come  to  me,  my  dear,  if  you  want  to  know  about 
house  rules.  For  seminary  rules,  go  straight  to  Miss 
Wilcroft,  or  to  one  of  the  teachers.  And  for  your  own 
rules,"  she  added,  with  a  pleasant  seriousness,  "  take 
them  from  the  book  where  the  story  of  the  loaves  and 
fishes  is." 

When  Nell  Southernwood  and  Cora  Ackworth  heard 
the  sequel,  they  were  moved  to  high  approbation  of  their 
neophyte. 

"  She  '11  do,"  Crack  said,  nodding  her  emphasis.  "  She  's 
got  stuff.  I  'd  call  you  Stuffy  right  off,  my  dear,"  she 
remarked,  patronizingly,  as  if  offering  knighthood  ;  "  but 
that  means  ugly  and  contrary,  too.  We  had  a  Stuffy 
here  once,  and  everybody  hated  her,  teachers  and  all." 


252  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

The  next  morning,  at  the  Seminary,  the  roll  was  called, 
the  names  were  recorded,  and  the  desks  assigned.  "  Miss 
Gibson  "  rose  promptly  to  the  summons. 

"  Your  full  name  ?  "  asked  Miss  Wilcroft,  as  usual. 

"  Sally  Punchard  Gibson,"  was  the  distinct  reply. 

"  Sarah  Punchard  Gibson,"  dictated  the  principal  to 
Miss  Ferrington,  who  was  recording.  "  We  do  not  use 
nicknames  here,  my  dear,"  she  said  to  Sally. 

"It  is  n't  a  nickname,  ma'am ;  it 's  my  real  name,  the 
whole  of  it." 

"  Were  you  baptized  '  Sally '  ?  " 

"  Yes,  ma'am.  I  'm  named  after  my  grandmother, 
Madam  Sally  Punchard.  She  was  baptized  Sally,  and 
it 's  Sally  on  her  gravestone." 

The  whole  school  was  in  a  smile  and  rustle.  It  seemed 
as  if  Sally  were  fated  to  make  a  figure  before  it  on  each 
possible  occasion. 

"  Write  the  name  as  the  young  lady  gives  it,"  Miss 
Wilcroft  said,  turning  to  her  assistant  to  save  her  own 
composure. 

"  Madame  Sally  Punchard?"  whispered  Miss  Ferring 
ton,  a  little  wickedly.  Sally  caught  the  whisper. 

"  I  was  n't  baptized  '  Madam,'  "  she  said,  gravely.  "  I 
did  n't  mean  that." 

"  Your  age  ?  "  Miss  Wilcroft  went  on,  abruptly,  to  be 
done  with  this  young  person,  dangerous  to  the  decorum  of 
platform  and  benches. 

"Fifteen  last  October."  Then  Miss  Wilcroft  had  to 
ask  the  day,  because  Margeret  Charney  was  also  fifteen 
last  October.  And  then  Sally  was  placed,  at  last,  between 
Nell  Southernwood,  who  was  sixteen,  and  Margeret  Char 
ney,  in  one  of  the  rows  of  three,  close  by  the  east-orchard 
door,  that  stood  pleasantly  open  this  warm  April  day. 

The  call  and  numbering  finished,  and  the  rules  read, 


SALLY  GIBSON'S  SPUNK.  253 

the  dismissal  came  for  the  recess ;  and  it  was  then  that 
Sally  found  her  school  title  already  attached  to  her. 

"Come  here,  girls!  "  called  out  Crack,  following  with 
two  companions  from  a  row  farther  up  on  the  same  side, 
and  running  down  the  steps  after  them,  as  they  went  out 
into  the  orchard.  "  Let  me  introduce  you  to  '  My  Grand 
mother,  Madam  Sally  Punchard.'  We  shall  get  a  for- 
short  for  it,  never  fear  ;  it  is  n't  going  to  be  all  that  every 
time.  And  it  won't  he  Granny,  either,  —  if  you  don't  act 
granny.  Let  me  catch  one  of  you  calling  her  that !  " 

Crack  gave  the  law.  It  was  "  My  Grandmother,"  or 
"  Madam  Sally,"  or,  for  emphasis,  "  Madam  Sally  Punch 
ard,"  after  that.  All  in  good  part,  and  something,  cer 
tainly,  so  far  ;  but  why  could  n't  they  have  thought  of 
"  Spunk  "  ? 

Sally  Gibson  was  not  the  first  candidate  for  honor  or 
compliment  who  could  think  of  something  for  herself  that 
did  not  occur  in  time  to  other  people. 

III. 

It  does  not  take  much  material  to  make  a  "prank"  out 
of  at  a  girls'  school.  Laws  begin  low  down  in  those  early 
little  communities.  They  hedge  in  to  the  inch  ;  the  ell  is 
a  horror  undreamed  of  ;  nevertheless,  without  dreaming 
of,  it  is  hedged  out.  We  laugh,  perhaps,  to  think  what 
were  our  bounds  and  what  were  our  trespasses  in  those 
days.  It  is  only  the  yes  or  no  of  it,  after  all ;  it  is  the 
question  of  faithfulness  or  unfaithfulness,  merely  ;  and 
once  a  word  was  spoken  from  as  far  on  above  the  little 
things  of  our  whole  life  as  we  can  speak  from  beyond  our 
childhood  now  ;  and  it  was  said  that  to  be  faithful  in 
those  little  first  things  was  to  be  faithful  in  the  large  eter 
nal  ones. 


254  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

Sally  Gibson  had  not  found  out  these  wide  relations  yet, 
nor  the  depths  of  the  reach  of  a  true  faithfulness. 

It  was  the  ruler's  rule  at  Oakhaven  to  make  as  few 
laws  as  possible  ;  but  if  any  escapade  unprovided  for  by 
law,  and  not  to  be  tolerated  as  a  precedent,  were  com 
mitted,  the  constitution  was  speedily  amended. 

It  was  Sally  Gibson's  ambition  to  keep  the  constitution 
under  as  continual  revision  as  possible.  Pure  fun  it  all- 
was.  She  never  did  a  radically  wrong  thing  in  it  all. 
She  scorned  a  meanness,  and  she  was  quick  to  feel  what 
is  at  the  basis  of  all  law  —  the  obligation  to  the  general 
good.  This  was  what  would  "  bring  her  up  all  standing," 
sometimes,  in  the  very  midst  of  a  mischief,  or  an  adven 
ture  —  such  a  little  one  as  I  will  tell  of  presently. 

Every  teacher  in  the  school  liked  her,  almost  against 
school-conscience  ;  every  scholar,  good  or  bad,  was  more 
or  less  bewitched  with  her.  The  scapegrace  set  claimed 
her,  but  could  not  always  hold  her ;  the  steady  ones 
wished  she  would  belong  more  avowedly  to  them. 

Who  could  make  rules  against  what  could  never  be 
successfully  attempted  more  than  once  ?  Or  who  could 
tell  where  the  lightning  would  flash  out  next  ?  What  use 
was  there  in  legislating  about  strings  and  hooks  fastened 
secretly  to  bed-clothing,  or  to  wrists  and  ankles  of  sleep 
ing  girls,  and  the  lines  carefully  trained  along  under  rugs 
or  furniture  to  the  doorways,  so  that  at  midnight,  shrieks 
and  shouts  of  fright,  anger,  and  fun  resounded  through 
the  corridors  ?  Or  to  prevent  half  a  dozen  bed-slats  being 
withdrawn  from  every  bedstead  in  a  row  of  rooms,  so  that 
one  after  another  would  tumble  into  noisy  confusion  the 
moment  the  lights  were  put  out,  and  the  first  stillness  of 
closed  doors  had  settled  upon  the  dormitories  ? 

And  what  ordinance  was  violated  when,  according  to 
requirement,  all  the  girls  having  covered  their  text-books 


SALLY   GIBSON'S  SPUNK.  255 

with  "  substantial  material,"  Sally  appeared  at  lesson 
after  lesson  with  such  illustrative  ornamentation  upon 
hers  as  sent  the  classes  into  but  half-subdued  convul 


sions 


Her  botany  was  gorgeous  with  a  flora  that  never  was 
indigenous  to  any  zone  between  the  poles,  —  impossible 
blossoms  cut  from  furniture  chintzes ;  her  geography  was 
rampant  with  tigers,  crocodiles,  anacondas,  white  bears 
promiscuous  among  icebergs,  palm-trees,  and  pyramids. 

Her  history  had  on  one  side  a  confusion  of  original  and 
applied  devices,  —  the  lion  and  the  unicorn,  in  brilliant 
colors,  fighting  for  the  crown  ;  crosses  and  crescents  inter 
locked  and  struggling  ;  caricatures  of  teachers  and  pupils 
as  martyrs  in  rows  at  opposite  stakes  ;  thrones  rocking 
like  cradles,  and  sceptres  flying  through  the  air  like  darts ; 
and  the  whole  opposite  cover  emblazoned  with  the  stars 
and  stripes,  with  a  bird  of  freedom  crowing  at  the  top. 

Her  astronomy  was  resplendent  with  a  solar  system  in 
gilt  paper  and  India  ink ;  a  jolly  fat  Sun  sitting  in  the 
middle,  with  flaming  hair,  and  outstretched,  pudgy  arms 
waving  on  his  planets  ;  the  planets,  on  strenuous  little 
legs,  scampering  and  somersaulting  along  their  orbits ; 
the  far-off  fixed  stars  shown  as  grotesque  little  winking 
eyes,  and  a  comet  blazing  among  the  whole,  with  a  tail 
whisking  around  the  back  binding. 

Remonstrated  with,  she  only  stated,  gravely,  that  "  it 
was  such  a  good  way  to  tell  them  apart ;  if  they  were 
all  in  sr.iooth  brown  linen,  like  Miss  Summerway's,  she 
should  always  be  bringing  the  wrong  book ;  and  she 
thought  she  would  have  them  as  appropriate  as  she  could." 

There  could  be  no  enactment  as  to  the  style  of  placing 
a  French  verb  upon  the  blackboard  that  would  forefend 
the  inspiration  that  seized  her  one  day  when  Monsieur 
Bienlasse  was  absent,  and  Miss  Ferrington  had  the  class, 


256  HOMESPUN  YARNS. 

—  to  strike  off  her  pronoun  for  the  first  person  singular 
in  the  outline  of  the  upper  part  of  a  face,  —  and  follow  on 
with  the  next  parts  of  the  tense  in  upright,  streaming 
lines,  like  monsieur's  hair,  —  making  the  last  ones  curve 
gradually  down  and  around,  till  a  graceful  looped  letter 
of  the  closing  word,  and  her  own  name  signed  beneath, 
whose  crooked  initial  served  for  mouth  and  chin,  met  to 
gether  in  rough  outline  of  a  high,  old-fashioned  stock  and 
coat-collar,  —  and  completed  a  clever  profile  sketch  of  the 
old  professor's  head. 

It  was  as  useless  to  follow  her  with  edicts  as  to  follow 
a  bird  with  a  noosed  string.  She  scorned  the  poverty 
of  repetition  in  the  letter  of  her  jokes  ;  the  spirit  was 
unhinderable. 

One  afternoon,  the  four  great  doors  stood  open  upon 
avenue  and  orchard,  and  through  the  vacant  halls  and 
rooms,  and  among  the  out-door  nooks,  the  girls  were 
playing  hide-and-seek.  Sally  Gibson  was  hid  repeatedly, 
and  never  found.  She  would  emerge  in  some  stealthy 
manner  when  all  were  tired,  and  come  walking  along  in 
open  view ;  and  when  demanded  of,  tumultuously,  where 
she  had  been,  would  say,  "  in  her  invisible  cloak." 

"  Just  like  her !  "  some  girls  said  ;  and  others,  "  Like 
her  to  go  invisible  ?  She  's  the  visiblest  girl  that  ever 
came  to  Oakhaven ! "  Right  enough,  both  ways,  and 
further  than  they  meant. 

She  was  hidden  now  for  the  fourth  time ;  and  at  this 
present  moment  she  was  nearer  breaking  a  known  rule 
and  making  a  moral  trespass  than  she  had  ever  been  yet, 
though  she  had  done  more  startling  things.  She  had  got 
behind  a  rule,  and  had  there  encountered  a  sudden  and 
irresistible  little  temptation. 

There  was  a  tall  hedge  across  the  head  of  the  flower- 
garden  which  lay  beneath  the  windows  of  the  Long  Room, 


SALLY  GIBSON'S  SPUNK.  257 

and  formed  part  of  the  pleasure  grounds  for  the  pupils. 
Behind  this  hedge,  and  closed  in  again  beyond,  and  from 
the  orchard,  by  a  board  fence  which  extended  at  right 
angles  from  a  line  of  wood-sheds  to  the  outside  wall,  was 
a  sort  of  kitchen  yard  and  drying-ground,  into  which,  or 
"through  the  hedge,"  as  the  rule  worded  it,  it  was  for 
bidden  to  go.  There  was  no  known  temptation  to  do  so  ; 
and  besides,  it  was  too  completely  overlooked  by  three 
tiers  of  windows  for  any  one  to  venture,  if  there  had  been. 

Sally  had  come  across  from  the  orchard  to  the  wood 
sheds.  It  was  no  new  thing  for  the  girls  to  hide  in  the 
corners  of  these  in  their  favorite  evening  game.  But 
Sally  —  who  but  she  ?  —  had  climbed  a  diminished  wood 
pile  ;  had  let  herself  down  behind  it,  and  discovered  there 
a  partly  loose  board  in  the  back  closing.  Through  this 
she  had  slipped,  pressing  the  board  again  to  its  fitting, 
where  it  stayed  firmly  enough  till  pulled  off  or  pushed 
upon ;  and  she  stood  there  in  an  angle  of  the  house  with 
the  outbuildings,  exactly  corresponding  to  one  made  in 
like  manner  upon  the  front  side  of  the  shed.  A  low  area 
door  opened  out  here,  which  she  had  never  seen  before ; 
otherwise,  she  considered  not  her  whereabouts,  until,  at 
her  third  hiding,  she  peeped  around  the  house-corner,  and 
discovered  that  before  her  lay  the  interdicted  little  square 
"  beyond  the  hedge." 

She  had  set  no  foot  into  it ;  she  had  drawn  back  to  her 
watching ;  and  hearing  presently  the  sound  of  the  hunt 
raging  afar  off,  had  emerged  as  before,  and  skirted  the 
field  to  meet  it.  But  at  this  fourth  time  she  had  no 
sooner  slipped  through  her  panel  than  a  delicious  spicy 
odor  met  her  nostrils,  keen  with  the  hunger  of  a  school 
girl  at  almost  tea-time.  Upon  the  area  ledge  outside  the 
sunken  door,  which  was  safely  shut,  stood  a  pan  heaped 
up  with  ginger  cookies,  just  cooling  from  the  oven. 
17 


258  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

Would  it  be  very  bad  ?  It  would  be  great  fun !  To 
come  out  from  her  invisibility  this  last  time  with  such  a 
visible  miracle !  To  treat  the  girls,  only  a  little  before 
hand,  with  what  of  course  was  made  and  meant  for  them, 
and  could  at  any  rate  only  be  eaten  once  !  It  was  like 
grapes  of  Eshcol !  She  did  not  stop  to  think  further ; 
the  door  might  open  at  any  moment ;  that,  indeed,  was 
the  splendor  of  the  achievement.  She  went  down  one 
step  ;  she  stooped ;  she  reached  ;  she  grasped,  —  once, 
twice,  three  times,  —  as  many  as  her  hand  could  hold. 

She  filled  the  crown  of  her  sun-bonnet,  that  hung  upon 
her  arm,  and  hurriedly  retreated.  She  could  have  passed 
easily  through  the  little  gap  between  the  last  old  stems  of 
the  hedge  and  the  house,  gone  unchallenged  through  the 
flower-garden,  and  met  her  puzzled  companions  serenely 
from  the  front.  But  she  stopped  there.  The  curious 
ethics  of  a  school-girl's  mind  withheld  her  from  crossing 
the  interdicted  little  square.  She  was  virtually  within 
it ;  she  was  just  where  she  knew  the  rule  was  meant  to 
prevent  them  from  trespassing ;  but  she  had  not  been 
"  through  the  hedge."  No  ;  she  kept  her  probity,  strug 
gled  back  through  the  narrow  board  opening,  climbed  the 
wood-pile,  skirted  the  orchard  fence,  and  darted  across  to 
the  old,  bent  apple-tree  !  Three  minutes  later,  the  girls, 
returning  from  a  fruitless  quest  beyond  the  seminary 
building,  found  her  quietly  sitting  in  the  arm-chair  crotch 
of  the  tree,  with  her  hands  folded  over  a  lapful  of  ginger 
cookies. 

"  I  'm  waiting  to  treat,"  she  said.  "  What  a  time  you 
have  been !  Here  !  and  here  !  and  here  !  "  and  she  tossed 
the  cookies  into  the  readily  upstretched  hands. 

"  Where  did  they  come  from  ?  Why,  they  're  hot ! 
Grandmother  Punchard,  where  have  you  been  ?  "  the  girls 
ejaculated,  eagerly. 


SALLY   GIBSON'S  SPUNK.  259 

"  I  Ve  been  —  an  awful  sinner,  I  expect.  But  a  saint 
would  have  sinned.  I  was  invisible,  and  the  cookies  were 
made  manifest.  I  vent  —  1  vided  —  I  viced ;  I  went  — 
I  saw  —  I  grabbed  !  " 

"  "Well,  they  won't  went  round  at  tea-time,  that 's  all," 
said  Crack,  beginning  on  a  second.  "  There  ain't  enough 
per-vided.  That 's  the  vice  of  it !  Old  Scott  makes 
just  so  many  in  a  pan,  and  just  two  panfuls.  Cookies 
always  come  after  fruit ;  big  cakes  when  there  is  n't  any 
sauce.  Fifteen  strawberries  apiece,  and  after  them  a 
ginger.  Only  they  won't  go  round." 

Sally  looked  suddenly  crestfallen.  "  I  did  n't  suppose 
they  counted  them,"  she  said. 

"  Of  course  they  do,"  said  Nell  Southernwood,  mali 
ciously.  "  You  're  in  for  it."  And  she  helped  herself 
again. 

Sally  drew  the  sun-bonnet  away  and  put  her  elbow  out 
over  it. 

"  I  did  n't  mean  that,"  she  said,  with  deep  contempt. 
"  I  did  n't  know  there  would  n't  be  a  plenty." 

"There  is,  for  us,"  said  Cora  Ackworth,  trying  to  put 
Sally's  arm  aside  and  reach  the  plunder  again. 

"  Nobody  shall  have  another  one !  "  cried  Sally,  crum 
pling  the  fresh  white  cambric  together,  and  closing  it  be 
tween  her  two  resolute  hands  like  a  bag.  "  And  none  of 
its  —  where  are  you  ah1  ?  —  need  take  any  to-night  at  the 
table." 

Crack  laughed  —  a  laugh  that  said  things  that  words 
would  have  been  ashamed  to  say.  It  told  Sally  that  she 
had  done  what  could  not  be  mended,  let  her  be  ever  so 
high  and  determined. 

Her  eyes  flashed.  "  /  don't  steal  people's  suppers  !  " 
she  exclaimed.  And  she  stood  upon  the  foot-rest  of  a 
lower  limb,  still  guarding  her  crushed-up  bonnet  defiantly. 


260  HOMESPUN  YARNS. 

11  Where 's  your  treat,  then  ?  "  cried  Crack,  with  her 
mocking  laugh  again.  "  And  how  are  we  to  manage 
going  without  two  or  three  apiece,  —  to  straighten  things 
and  pacify  your  conscience,  —  when  we  sha'n't  have  a 
chance  at  more  than  one  ?  The  sum  won't  prove." 

"  My  treat  was  the  beforehand  —  and  the  fun.  But 
there  's  no  fun  in  a  mean  thing.  Let  me  down  !  "  and  she 
struggled  with  Cora,  who  had  climbed  the  branch  beside 
her. 

"  You  can't  help  it  now,"  repeated  Crack.  Sally 
pushed  at  her  vehemently.  Crack  braced  herself  against 
the  arm-chair  crotch,  and  laughed  on.  "  Yes,  you  can," 
she  said.  "  You  can  treat  the  sufferers  next  time  ;  or  out 
of  your  next  box  from  home  ;  or  with  your  candy  money 
when  the  old  man  comes  round.  You  can  put  all  their 
names  down,  as  particular  as  you  please.  But  if  the 
cookies  begin  at  my  end  of  the  table,  I  shall  have  to  take 
one,  if  it 's  only  not  to  look  like  having  lost  my  appetite. 
It 's  those  that  don't  want  cake  to-night  that  '11  be  found 
out !  "  Sally  ignored  the  last  half  of  that  speech. 

"  As  if  you  could  make  up  things  that  way  !  "  she  said. 
"  They  'd  have  had  both,  and  you  know  it.  One  thing 
don't  put  back  another." 

"  What  a  fuss  about  a  cookie  ! "  said  Nell  Southern 
wood.  "  You  did  n't  know  they  were  counted.  We  Ve  a 
right  to  our  board ;  and  that  means,  I  guess,  being  fed 
when  you  're  hungry.  It 's  your  own  scrape,  and  you 
might  as  well  hold  on  to  the  glory  of  it.  I  'd  be  one 
thing  or  the  other  if  I  were  you." 

Angry  tears  came  to  Sally's  eyes. 

Crack  thought  they  had  her  at  advantage,  and  spoke 
again.  Crack  never  "  got  mad." 

"  You  're  a  curious  one,"  she  said.  "  And  you  've  got 
a  funny  sort  of  spunk  for  a  girl  that  can  begin  so  spunky  !  " 


SALLY  GIBSON'S  SPUNK.  261 

Sally  was  struck  silent  for  an  instant.  The  very  word 
she  had  been  waiting  for  came  now,  not  with  intended 
honor,  but  reproach.  "  I  've  got  my  grandmother's  spunk," 
she  said  then,  loftily,  and  quietly  stepped,  rather  than 
jumped,  down  from  the  low  limb  upon  the  grass.  "  I  'm 
going  to  Miss  Ladd." 

"  No  !     Stop !  " 

"  You  need  n't  be  afraid.  I  'm  the  only  one  that 's  lost 
my  appetite.  You  won't  be  found  out." 

"  Keep  her  !  Stop  her !  "  Cora  called,  as  Sally  walked 
away.  "  Tell  us  first  what  your  grandmother's  spunk 


"  You  '11  see.  1 11  tell  you  when  you  can  understand," 
said  Sally,  without  looking  round. 

IV. 

Sally  had  to  cross  the  orchard,  for  the  old  apple-tree 
was  around  the  seminary  corner  at  the  back.  As  she 
came  into  the  avenue,  she  saw  Miss  Wilcroft  go  from  it 
into  the  house  by  the  side  piazza-door,  and  at  the  same 
moment  the  clock  gave  the  single  stroke.  It  must  be  half- 
past  six.  She  was  too  late.  The  bell  must  be  just  going 
to  ring.  But  the  bell  did  not  ring.  It  was  five  minutes 
too  late  itself  that  night.  A  very  breathless  little  per 
son  ran  into  the  housekeeper's  room,  and  Miss  Wilcroft 
passed  on  into  her  own. 

There  was  a  basket  of  jumbles  that  night  for  the  "  little 
girls'  elbow,"  as  a  right-angled  addition  to  the  upper  end 
of  the  long  table  was  called.  Miss  Ladd  glanced  at  Miss 
Wilcroft  as  the  dishes  were  passed. 

"  There  was  some  mistake  about  the  cookies,"  she  said. 
"  Scott  had  not  quite  so  many  as  usual." 

Miss  Wilcroft  smiled  and  bent  her  head. 


262  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

"  There  have  been  mistakes  about  several  things,  I 
think,"  she  said,  with  a  significance. 

Miss  Ladd  had  not  broken  Sally  Gibson's  counsel,  any 
more  than  Sally  had  confessed  for  any  but  herself.  The 
housekeeper  was  a  lady  of  broad  faith,  who  believed  in 
the  first  thing  for  a  forgiver  to  do  being  to  help  the  for 
given  out  of  trouble.  She  got  that  command  and  its  com 
fort  out  of  her  New  Testament  and  the  Lord's  Prayer. 

There  was  plenty  of  cake  for  all.  Sally  thought  one  of 
the  mistakes  had  been  about  the  counting  of  the  cookies; 
for  even  of  them  there  would  have  been  certainly  one 
apiece.  Every  girl  tranquilly  took  her  share  except  herself. 
Neither  at  that  tea  nor  for  ten  more  did  she  appropriate 
her  part.  The  orderly  ones  may  have  guessed  that  she 
was  in  penance  for  something  not  transpired.  The  dis 
orderly  ones  thought  they  knew  all  about  it. 

There  were  three  persons  who  really  understood,  and 
they  without  exchange  of  word  or  notice.  Even  Miss 
Ladd  did  not  know  that  it  had  been  Miss  Wilcroft  herself 
who  stopped  the  bell  just  as  Hannah  was  ringing  it,  and 
made  the  tea  five  minutes  late.  And  the  "  making  up"  was 
a  wholly  voluntary  atonement  on  Sally's  part.  Sally  did 
one  other  little  justice  while  she  was  about  it.  She  counted 
her  strawberries,  and  found  the  fifteen  to  be  nine  and 
twenty.  She  took  pains  to  tell  Crack  Ackworth  so. 

It  was  a  pity  the  good  set  was  beginning  to  give  her 
over  to  the  reprobates,  for  the  reprobates  were  beginning 
not  to  know  exactly  what  to  do  with  her. 

Two  nights  after,  as  the  bell  rang  for  evening  study, 
Sally  was  hurrying  from  the  Seminary  with  a  lexicon  she 
had  forgotten  to  bring  before,  and  Miss  Wilcroft  met  her 
in  the  avenue.  She  stopped  her  in  the  shadow  of  the 
linden-trees. 

"  My  dear,"  she  said  kindly,  laying  her  hand  upon  her 


SALLY  GIBSON'S  SPUNK.  263 

shoulder,  "  will  you  tell  me  what  your  grandmother's  spunk 
—  that  seems  to  have  been  your  inheritance  —  was  ?  " 

It  all  flashed  upon  Sally  in  an  instant.  Miss  Wilcroft 
had  come  through  the  Seminary  while  she  had  crossed  the 
orchard.  She  had  heen  in  her  own  little  gallery  room  that 
almost  overlooked  the  apple-tree.  She  had  heard  —  per 
haps  seen  —  how  much  of  it  ? 

"  It  was  all  my  fault,  ma'am,"  she  burst  forth  eagerly. 
"  You  won't  lay  it  to  the  rest  ?  " 

"  I  think  not,"  said  Miss  Wilcroft,  with  an  amused 
application  of  the  word.  "  They  do  not  seem  to  have  in 
herited  it,  or  its  like.  —  It 's  your  grandmother,  my  child, 
whom  I  should  like  to  hear  about.  Will  you  tell  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  was  the  reply  to  that,  in  a  subdued  way 
for  Sally  Gibson,  but  with  an  undertone  of  pride  for 
Madam  Punchard.  It  was  comfortable  to  have  her  grand 
mother  to  lean  back  upon.  She  felt  very  small  just  then, 
for  herself. 

She  picked  herself  up,  as  it  were,  by  Madam  Sally 
Punchard's  dignity,  as  a  cipher  in  the  unit  place  may  bor 
row  one  from  a  ten,  when  it  finds  itself  subtracted  from. 

"  It  was  my  grandmother  that  I  was  named  for,"  she 
said.  "  Madam  Sally  Punchard.  She  lived  in  New  York 
State  in  the  time  of  the  Revolution,  when  the  fighting  was 
all  up  and  down  there,  and  a  piece  of  the  country  would 
be  sometimes  in  the  hands  of  the  Continentals  and  some 
times  of  the  British,  and  sometimes  of  anybody  that  could 
ravage,  and  skirmish,  and  spy,  —  tories  and  cowboys  and 
everything.  And  my  grandfather,"  she  went  on  rapidly, 
warming  with  her  narrative,  and  half  forgetting  what  had 
called  it  up,  —  "  my  grandfather,  Colonel  Punchard,  was 
away  with  the  army.  Madam  Sally  had  to  keep  the  house, 
that  was  in  a  lonely  place,  away  from  the  town,  on  a  big 
farm.  The  nearest  other  house  was  half  a  mile  away ; 


264  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

but  a  little  further  from  there  was  quite  a  settlement  of  a 
lot  of  people  all  family  related  ;  and  Grandmother  Punch- 
ard  looked  to  them  for  neighbors  in  case  anything  hap 
pened  ;  only  she  was  n't  very  sure  of  getting  at  them  just 
when  she  wanted  them  most. 

*'  She  had  all  the  money,  and  the  silver,  and  my  grand 
father's  letters  and  papers  hidden  away ;  and  they  only 
used  pewter  spoons  and  things,  for  fear  of  the  marauders. 

"  Well,  one  night  the  marauders  came  ;  and  my  grand 
mother  and  Palmyra,  her  colored  maid,  were  all  alone  ;  so 
they  met  the  men  at  the  door,  and  grandmother  looked  so 
calm  and  cool,  and  Palmyra  held  her  turban  up  so  high  and 
proud,  as  if  she  was  only  the  head  one  of  a  whole  lot  of 
servants,  men  and  women,  that  the  leader  of  the  gang,  who 
pretended  to  be  a  British  officer,  took  off  his  cap. 

"  Grandmother  and  Palmyra  had  both  made  up  their 
minds  beforehand  what  to  do  if  such  a  thing  happened, 
only  they  had  made  them  up  different  ways. 

*'  Palmyra  stepped  to  the  door  of  the  empty  sitting- 
room,  and  began  to  ask  '  Mr.  Jim '  if  he  was  there. 

"  '  What  is  that  for,  Palmyra,'  my  grandmother  said. 

"  '  I  'se  lookin'  fer  de  cunnel's  o'd'ly,  ma'am,'  says  she. 
•  Don't  yer  tink  he 's  bes'  step  en  let  de  cunnel  know 
dere  's  cump'ny  come  ?  ' 

"  '  Palmyra,'  says  my  grandmother  !  '  a  lie  won't  save 
us,  but  the  Lord  may.' 

"  And  then  she  told  the  leader  of  the  men  that  the 
things  were  there,  and  there  was  nobody  to  hinder,  but 
he  'd  have  to  look  for  them. 

"  He  said  he  should  n't  look  long  without  asking  her ; 
he  'd  give  her  just  half  an  hour  to  think  about  it,  while 
his  men  got  something  to  eat,  and  picked  up  what  was 
lying  round,  and  then  he  meant  to  be  off. 

"  And  my  grandmother  did  n't  say  another  word,  but 


SALLY   GIBSON'S  SPUNK.  265 

walked  away  into  a  little  end  room,  and  carried  a  light  in 
with  her,  and  sat  down  and  read  her  Bible.  And  the 
light  was  a  sign  to  the  house  that  was  half  a  mile  off ;  and 
the  people  there  put  up  their  signal,  and  before  the  robbers 
had  got  all  they  wanted,  ten  men  on  horseback  rode  into 
the  yard,  and  more  were  coming !  and  the  plunderers 
were  all  taken,  that's  all." 

"  Thank  you.  I  think,  my  dear,  that  you  will  find  your 
grandmother's  spunk  a  very  good  corrective  for  what 
school-girls  are  apt  to  mistake  for  the  quality.  Perhaps 
you  have  not  begun  quite  right  here,  in  all  things,  Sally  !  " 

She  dismissed  her  without  even  a  word  about  anything 
more,  and  nothing  more  was  ever  heard  of  it.  She  said  to 
herself,  —  the  wise  lady,  —  "  The  girl  has  a  better  reprover 
than  I  could  be  ;  and  a  better  leaven  for  the  rest  than  ex 
posures  and  punishments.  There  's  enough  grandmother 
in  her  to  set  her  right,  and  to  work  wider  in  the  end,  if 
the  girls  without  grandmothers  don't  get,  meanwhile, 
where  I  shall  be  forced  to  interfere." 

The  most  unfortunate  result  of  the  whole  occurrence 
was  that  Sally  got  her  name  by  it.  The  "  girls  without 
grandmothers  "  found  it  good  policy  to  admire  —  as  if 
they  could  appreciate  —  the  real  nobleness  into  which  her 
mettle  had  blazed  ;  to  drop,  also,  the  "  Madam  Punchard  " 
reminder,  which  stirred  too  high  a  loyalty  for  their  regu 
lar  convenience.  They  were  really  grateful,  too,  for  her 
stanch  bearing  of  the  whole  blame,  and  of  what  they  be 
lieved  the  imposed  penalty.  They  began  to  call  her 
"Spunk"  and  "  Spunkie,"  without  the  "  Grandmother," 
and  Sally  felt  bound  to  live  up  to  it. 

Anything  that  called  for  clear  daring,  without  essential 
unfaithfulness  or  meanness,  they  knew  they  could  at  any 
time  put  her  up  to  ;  and  at  most  times  she  did  not  wait 
for  putting  up.  But  when  they  had  a  real  scheme  of  their 


266  HOMESPUN  YARNS. 

own  to  further,  they  often  had  to  get  her  share  of  the 
work  done  through  some  withholding  or  pretense. 

Thus  Sally  was  involved  in  several  matters,  the  whole 
extent  of  which  was  never  confided  to  her,  and  concerning 
which  a  quiet  vigilance  was  being  kept  by  the  authorities 
of  the  school. 

The  summer  deepened ;  the  long,  hot  evening?  and 
nights  came.  Studies  were  given  up  after  eight  o'clock, 
and  the  girls  were  allowed  as  much  wholesome  liberty  as 
they  could  take  without  exceeding  into  unwholesomeness. 

Once  in  a  while,  one  or  two  were  permitted  to  "  take 
tea  out,"  at  Dr.  Archer's,  or  Judge  Lewis's,  or  at  Madam 
Wilcroft's  cottage.  Miss  Wilcroft  herself  would  some 
times  invite  a  pupil  to  accompany  her  to  her  mother's  on 
an  informal  visit. 

These  were  great  privileges,  and  the  accepting  of  invi 
tations  to  good  houses  "  in  the  town  "  could  not  always  be 
withheld,  even  from  those  girls  who  would  encroach  upon 
their  opportunity. 

Commencement  came  on  at  Anmouth,  a  half-day's  trip 
up  the  river ;  and  several  students  who  had  sisters,  or 
cousins,  or  acquaintances  in  the  school  at  Oakhaven,  and 
were  often  in  town,  would  be  there  now  for  the  vacation, 
either  at  their  homes,  or  visiting  the  residents. 

John  Archer,  whose  sister  Fanny  was  a  day  scholar  at 
Miss  Wilcroft's,  and  Gorham  Lewis,  who  was  cousin  to 
the  Archers,  were  to  have  for  guests  Dick  Southernwood 
and  Harry  Ackworth,  brother  and  cousin  respectively  to 
Cora  and  Nell. 

Miss  Wilcroft  had  a  ticklish  tiller  to  hold,  in  those  days, 
to  steer  faithfully,  impartially,  wisely,  her  boat  and  its 
sprightful  company  among  the  stumps  and  shallows,  and 
against  the  risky  currents. 

Endless  were  the  devices  and  combinations  made  by 


SALLY  GIBSON'S  SPUNK.  267 

certain  of  these  insiders  and  outsiders  to  meet  frequently 
together.  The  claims  of  relationship  were  unanswerable  ; 
but  these  relationships  were  so  easily  and  large-heartedly 
exchanged  ! 

Every  year  there  was  more  or  less  of  this.  Rules  and 
conditions  were  imposed  and  evaded.  Hours  were  ex 
ceeded,  even  to  the  incurring  of  penalties  in  denials  to 
succeeding  pleasures. 

It  had  been  more  than  suspected  that  surreptitious  ex 
cursions  were  planned  and  made,  and  that  much  inter 
course  not  to  be  approved  or  allowed  for  school-girls  in 
their  term-time,  away  from  home,  and  in  the  mixed  asso 
ciation  of  numbers,  had  gone  on,  in  spite  of  the  most 
solicitous  watchfulness  that  could  be  maintained  without 
being  suspicious  and  suggestive. 

Miss  Wilcroft  entered,  this  year,  with  somewhat  more 
than  usual  apprehension,  what  she  called  the  meteoric 
field  of  her  annual  orbit. 

It  was  at  about  this  time,  and  upon  the  arrival  of  a  new 
pupil,  that  she  had  judged  it  well  to  make  some  changes 
in  rooms  and  room-mates,  which  were  not  quite  compre 
hended,  in  their  policy,  by  the  school  at  large. 

Sally  Gibson  was  removed  from  the  room  she  had 
shared  with  Ellen  Southernwood,  and  put  in  what  the 
girls  knew  as  "  the  cherry-tree  bedroom,"  a  little  single- 
bedded  apartment  in  the  far  corner  of  the  wing,  which 
had  been  carefully  closed  since  occupied  a  year  before  by 
Miss  Praid,  the  teacher  of  English  Literature,  who  had 
been  succeeded  by  Miss  Porter,  a  resident  of  Oakhaven. 

Cora  Ackworth  was  placed  with  Nell,  — an  arrange 
ment  they  had  been  "  dying  for  for  ages,"  when  they  had 
not  been  "  dying  "  separately  for  permission  to  occupy 
"  the  cherry-tree  room." 

Perhaps   it  was  easier  to    keep    her    eye    on    the    two 


268  HOMESPUN  YARNS. 

together,  in  some  ways  ;  perhaps,  also,  Miss  Wilcroft 
recognized  something  of  the  principle  enunciated  by  the 
old  lady  who  approved  a  certain  desperate  sort  of  marriage 
between  two  persons,  each  undesirable  for  anybody  else 
to  marry,  —  that  "  it  was  better  than  to  spoil  two  families." 

As  to  Sally,  Cora  and  Nell  were  quite  wild  over  her 
unaccountable  good  luck,  and  reckoned  securely  upon 
sharing  its  advantages.  The  cherry-tree  was  a  perfect 
Jack's  Beanstalk  of  opportunity.  Its  stout,  gnarled  limbs 
grated  their  boughs  against  the  very  clapboards  and 
window-sill,  when  a  wind  blew  ;  and  down  below,  the 
rugged  trunk  leaned  close  to  the  low  roof  of  the  very 
shed  through  which  Sally  had  found  her  way  to  the  De 
batable  Land  and  the  placer  of  ginger  cookies.  Besides, 
the  room  was  on  the  further  side  of  the  wing  stairway, 
and  opened  at  its  very  head. 

u  You  don't  know  your  chances ! "  Crack  had  said  to 
Sally,  the  day  the  latter  was  moving  in  her  boxes. 

Miss  Wilcroft  had  quietly  stepped  in  beforehand. 

"  My  dear,"  she  said  to  Sally,  "  I  have  to  ask  a  prom 
ise  of  you.  I  am  sure  you  will  enjoy  this  room,  and  I 
give  you  every  liberty  in  and  about  it  consistent  with  the 
established  rules.  But  I  know  you  will  be  quick  enough 
to  discover  its  availabilities  for  fun,  and  I  ask  you,  plainly, 
to  say  that  you  will  never  climb  —  either  up  or  down,  or 
let  any  one  else  do  so  —  that  cherry-tree !  It  is  an  ex 
traordinary  request  to  make  of  a  young  lady,  but  I  make 
it ;  and  you  promise  ?  " 

Sally  looked  out  into  the  cherry-tree,  giving  it  full  con 
sideration. 

"  I  may  n't  sit  there  in  the  branches  and  study  ?  " 

"No."     Another  pause. 

"  Suppose  the  house  catches  fire  ?  "  she  asked,  gravely, 
as  one  who  must  take  in  all  contingencies. 


SALLY   GIBSON'S  SPUNK.  269 

"I  do  not  ask  you  to  reenact  Casablanca,"  Miss  Wil- 
croft  answered,  as  gravely.  "  I  will  take  your  word  of 
honor  for  the  keeping  of  the  spirit  of  my  request,  and 
trust  you  for  any  severe  and  uncalculated  emergency." 

"  Thank  you,  ma'am,"  said  Sally ;  and  from  that  mo 
ment —  as  Miss  Wilcroft  knew  she  would  —  felt  herself 
bound. 

V. 

The  21st  of  June  was  always,  weather  permitting,  an 
excursion  holiday.  School  was  suspended,  and  a  party 
made  of  teachers  and  scholars,  to  Thunder  Glen,  Toma 
hawk  Mountain,  or  over  the  river  to  Widefield  and  the 
lake.  It  came  in  well  as  a  safety-valve  for  the  dangerous 
season  of  accumulated  electricities. 

For  days  beforehand  the  restless  ones  were  quieter, 
satisfied  with  the  plans  in  prospect,  fearing  to  forfeit 
them,  and  less  tempted  to  contrive  for  themselves. 

Sally  was  at  this  time  just  settled  in  her  room,  and 
that  novelty  pleased  and  satisfied  her.  She  had  not  tired 
yet  of  lawful  occupations  in  that  shaded  window,  where 
the  scarlet-fruited  boughs  thrust  themselves  in  at  her,  till 
the  bright  little  globes  were  all  gone  as  far  as  her  arms 
and  her  visitors'  could  reach  among  them,  and  only  the 
pleasant  leaves  stayed  to  keep  her  summer  company,  and 
fan  and  whisper  to  her  in  the  wind. 

Louise  Summerway  had  been  in  to  see  her.  Miss 
Ladd,  truly,  had  suggested  this,  —  for  Sally  little  knew, 
any  more  than  the  rest  of  us,  how  the  forces  of  right  and 
hope  and  kindness  were  at  work  for  her  ;  and  it  was 
apropos  of  some  new  knotted  wool-work  for  fancy  mats, 
that  all  the  girls  who  liked  pretty  feminine  finger-craft 
were  busy  with,  and  that  Sally  had  taken  to  with  the  zeal 
that  characterized  all  her  takings. 


270  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

So  Miss  Summerway  had  sat  with  her  for  an  hour  on 
Wednesday  afternoon,  in  the  cherry-tree  window,  and 
Sally  had  really  felt  lifted  up  into  an  ambition  of  higher 
companionship ;  for  she  had  found  Louise  simple  and 
sweet,  and  not  "  high-righteous,"  as  the  frolickers  called 
her ;  and  Louise  had  found  Sally  bright  and  worth  while. 

Crack  and  her  coterie  began  to  be  dismayed. 

"  She  's  turning  pious,"  they  said.  "  She  has  n't  cut  up 
a  dido  for  nearly  a  week.  'T  won't  do.  We  must  get  her 
into  something,  or  she  '11  be  out  of  everything."  And  they 
knew  they  could  not  spare  her  wits  or  her  intrepidity. 

For  good  reasons  of  her  own,  Miss  Wilcroft  did  not 
divulge  the  intended  direction  of  the  party  until  the  even 
ing  of  the  day  before. 

Whether  it  were  to  be  mountain,  glen  or  lake,  or  some 
quite  new  exploration,  was  the  exciting  uncertainty.  But 
before  the  days  of  electric  telegraphy,  signals  were  pos 
sible  ;  and  even  from  behind  the  fences  of  a  boarding- 
school  there  are  ways  enough ;  and  there  were  those 
interested  who  knew,  almost  as  soon  as  the  pupils  them 
selves,  that  Thunder  Glen  was  the  destination  of  the  com 
pany  on  this  particular  21st. 

Now  Thunder  Glen  was  just  about  equidistant,  though 
not  upon  the  direct  road,  between  Anmouth  and  Oak- 
haven  ;  and  it  was  graduation  day  at  Anmouth  on  the  20th. 

There  was  a  question  of  dress  for  the  picnic.  Miss 
Wilcroft  advised,  as  usual,  plain,  strong,  white  gowns,  and 
most  wore  them ;  but  Cora  Ackworth  appeared  in  buff 
linen,  and  was  fine  with  a  butterfly  brooch  and  broad 
filigree  bracelets  of  Berlin  iron.  Ellen  Southernwood  had 
a  rose-colored  jaconet. 

"  Why  don't  you  wear  your  blue  ?  "  they  asked  of  Sally. 

"  You  look  a  great  deal  nicer  in  it.  You  always  get  so 
red,  you  know." 


SALLY   GIBSON'S  SPUNK.  271 

Sally  got  a  little  red  at  once.  "  I  like  my  dimity,"  she 
said. 

"  And  her  blue  is  best,"  said  Nell  Southernwood,  who 
had  a  dozen  summer  dresses,  and  knew  that  Sally  had  but 
a  third  as  many. 

"  'Tis  n't  that,"  said  Cora,  with  more  disdain.  "  She 
wants  to  walk  in  white  among  the  worthy.  Let  her  try." 

If  Sally  wanted  to  "  walk  in  white,"  she  would  try  to 
do  it  when  nobody  was  by.  Crack's  speech  kept  her  more 
aloof  from  her  beginnings  of  friendship  with  the  white 
ones  than  any  coaxing  could  have  done.  Besides,  she 
had  a  horror  of  what  she  called  "  flapjacking,"  which  was 
the  thing  that  a  more  legitimate  use  of  language  would 
term  apostasy.  She  had  chosen  her  style  and  party  ;  she 
would  not  suddenly  turn  or  desert. 

So  she  was  with  the  "  colored  people,"  as  they  called 
themselves,  when  they  got  apart  from  the  rest  a  little  way 
among  the  bowlders  and  crags  of  Thunder  Glen. 

Cora,  who  was  as  clever  at  drawing  as  Ellen  Southern 
wood  at  music,  perched  herself  on  a  lone,  unsharable  point, 
with  her  sketch-book,  to  get  a  view  of  Little  Ferny  Fall. 

She  \vas  quite  conspicuous  to  the  whole  party,  though 
separated  from  them,  as  they  gathered  mostly  in  the  wide, 
cool,  cavern-like  space  below  the  fall,  upon  the  big, 
smooth  rock,  over  whose  face  the  calming  water  lapsed  in 
gentle  overflow,  or  found  trickling  channels  in  its  worn 
clefts.  Nobody  thought  that  that  leading  spirit  of  mis 
chief  could  be  better  placed  than  she  had  chosen  to  place 
herself. 

Nell  Southernwood's  dress  was  just  visible  by  a  floating 
fold  over  the  round  of  rock  below  where  Cora  sat ;  and 
along  the  tangled  marginal  bank  of  the  waterfall,  Sally 
Gibson,  Margeret  Charney,  and  others,  were  gathering 
mosses  and  ferns  that  dripped  and  waved  in  its  very  edges. 


272  HOMESPUN  YARNS. 

Nobody  but  one  or  two  —  and  Sally  Gibson  least  of  all  — 
knew  or  suspected  that  there  had  been  any  covert  mean 
ing  in  the  buff  and  rose  color ;  that  the  flutter  of  their 
distinguishing  tints  had  served  as  guide  to  other  eyes  and 
footsteps,  and  that,  in  the  shade  of  the  thick,  low,  cedar 
copse  that  overgrew  the  shoulder  of  hill  from  which  Cora's 
rock  projected,  and  quite  near  enough  for  the  girls'  low 
tones  to  reach,  and  their  ears  to  catch  reply,  were  already 
comfortably  placed  a  group  of  the  other  persons,  who 
had,  of  course,  as  good  a  right  to  search  and  track  old 
Thunder  Glen  as  the  Seminary  party  had. 

And  what  if  there  were  ?  Two  were  but  brother  and 
cousin  after  all,  and  the  third  a  friend  of  these,  who  had 
come  riding  over  the  upland  from  the  high-road,  and  had 
tied  their  horses  out  in  the  pasture  margin  of  the  wood. 

They  could  not  have  been  openly  invited,  though,  and 
the  fun  was  in  their  being  there  without  it ;  in  sitting  and 
chatting  with  the  young  girls,  so  demurely  occupied,  almost 
in  the  face  and  hearing  of  authority  which  they  delighted 
to  deal  with  as  a  great  deal  more  despotic  than  it  really 
was.  It  was  so  audacious,  and  yet  so  cleverly  secure. 

There  was  only  one  way  to  climb  directly  to  the  thicket 
from  the  water-side,  and  that  was  by  the  narrow  shelvy 
path  that  led  to  just  where  the  two  young  ladies  had  fixed 
themselves,  and  where  nobody,  of  course,  could  pass  while 
they  remained. 

Nobody  knew  of  the  walk  through  the  cedars  when 
Cora  and  Nell  disappeared  from  their  high  places  and 
chose  the  long  way  round,  coming  in  among  their  com 
panions  a  little  while  after  from  the  under-ledge  path  upon 
the  north. 

And  nobody  understood,  when  one  of  those  quick,  heavy 
afternoon  showers,  that  happen  any  summer  day,  drove 
them  all  hurriedly  to  the  big  hay-rigging,  and  then  forced 


SALLY  GIBSOAr'S  SPUNK.  273 

them  to  a  refuge  in  the  first  farm-house  on  their  way,  — 
how  it  was  that  the  same  necessity  sent  four  horseback 
riders  just  after  them  into  the  farmer's  barn,  whence  he 
hospitably  brought  them  into  the  great  kitchen  to  get  their 
share  of  the  drying,  where  shawls  and  sun-bonnets  were 
being  spread  beside  the  fire. 

Thunder  and  lightning  and  wildly-pouring  torrents  kept 
them  a  good  two  hours  ;  during  which  the  unavoidable 
was  politely  made  the  matter-of-course  ;  and  John  Archer, 
and  Richard  Southernwood,  and  Harry  Ackworth,  and 
Mr.  Oldridge,  the  newly-introduced  stranger,  talked  and 
laughed  openly  with  governesses  and  pupils,  assisted  them 
in  all  sorts  of  courteous  ways,  watched  and  reported  the 
weather,  helped  them  up  at  last  into  the  hay- wagon,  lifted 
their  hats  as  the  vehicle  got  lumberingly  under  way,  and 
then  sprang  upon  their  steeds  and  caracoled  gayly  beside, 
before,  and  behind  them,  along  the  gleaming  wet  roads 
and  under  the  dripping  branches  in  the  golden  light  of 
the  rain-sweet  sunset. 

Crack  and  Nell  had  to  tell  somebody  or  die ;  so  they 
told  Sally  Gibson.  What  was  the  use  of  their  clever  trick, 
indeed,  except  to  explain  the  cleverness  afterward,  and 
get  it  admired  ? 

But  Sally  did  not  admire  quite  so  enthusiastically  as 
they  had  expected.  She  did  not  seem  to  envy  at  all.  In 
fact,  she  looked  just  a  little  bit  disgusted.  She  liked  girl- 
fun  and  rule  -  dodging  ;  but  a  certain  delicacy  of  her 
homely  training  made  her  think  it  not  so  funny  to  cir 
cumvent  when  young  persons  of  the  opposite  division  of 
creation  were  concerned  and  concurrent. 

"  John  Archer  did  not  come  till  afterward,"  Nell  South 
ernwood  remarked.  "  He  rode  out  to  meet  them  half 
way.  It  was  Fan  that  fixed  it  all.  She  sent  my  note  to 
Longbridge  by  the  early  stage  this  morning ;  and  when 

18 


274  HOMESPUN  YARNS. 

John  got  there  Dick  had  left  word  that  they  were  gone 
round  to  Thunder  Glen  to  meet  the  picnic.  John  knew 
he  was  n't  asked ;  and  he  got  his  lunch,  and  then  came 
plodding  back  to  the  Six  Corners.  John  is  slow ;  a  real 
honest  old  poke,  like  the  doctor." 

"  I  like  John  Archer,"  Sally  Gibson  said. 

"  Well,  that 's  straightforward !  "  cried  the  two  girls, 
and  stared  at  her. 

"  She  '11  never  do  it  in  all  the  world,  I  don't  believe," 
said  Nell  Southernwood,  with  miserable  syntax  and  jfet 
more  miserable  accent.  "  She  's  got  an  awful  sober  side 
to  her  when  it  gets  uppermost,  and  it 's  uppermost  now,  it 
seems  to  me." 

"  We  must  get  her  in  some  scrape  first,"  said  Cora. 

"  We  've  only  two  days  to  do  it  in,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Five,"  said  Cora.  "  I  don't  care  so  much  for  Satur 
day  ;  but  Tuesday  I  will  go,  if  I  never  enter  the  old  sera 
again !  " 

"  Don't  you  imagine  "  — 

"  Hush !  "  interrupted  Crack,  peremptorily.  "  I  am 
imagining.  Don't  speak  till  I  get  through.  It 's  just 
dawning." 

She  sat  down  on  the  floor,  put  her  elbows  on  her  knees 
and  her  fingers  in  her  ears,  and  shut  her  eyes,  as  she  was 
apt  to  do  at  a  hard  place  in  a  lesson. 

Nell  stood  stock-still  and  let  it  dawn.  In  two  minutes, 
Cora  flew  to  her  feet  again. 

"  She  shall  help  us,  and  she  sha'n't  know  it !  Then  if 
she  does  n't  have  to  help  us  again,  my  name  's  not  Crack 
Ackworth !  "  And  Crack  snapped  all  her  fingers  over  her 
head,  like  a  pair  of  castanets. 

"  Saturday  night  is  Midsummer  Eve,  —  did  you  know 
it?" 


SALLY  GIBSON'S  SPUNK.  275 

"No." 

"  Thought  you  did  n't.  And  that 's  the  Eve  of  St.  John. 
Know  that  ?  " 

"No." 

"  Knew  you  did  n't.  It 's  the  night  for  tricks,  and 
signs,  and  ghosts,  and  dreams.  Ever  hear  of  '  Midsum 
mer  Night's  Dream  '  ?  " 

"  That 's  in  Shakespeare." 

"  So  's  everything." 

I  have  not  room,  in  telling  this  little  story,  to  say  all 
my  own  say.  Perhaps  the  say  of  these  girls  is  of  even 
less  value.  I  must,  at  any  rate,  pass  over  most  of  it  to  its 
result. 

"  It  won't  do,"  said  Crack,  as  a  finality,  "  to  talk  to  her 
about  husbands  —  and  trash.  Tell  her  she  '11  dream  out 
the  next  ten  years,  and  all  the  luck  and  happening  of 
them,  for  herself  and  her  '  folks,'  as  she  calls  them.  And 
tell  her  the  imps  are  all  out,  and  she  won't  dare.  That  '11 
fire  her  up  to  it.  And  the  imps  will  be  out  —  some  of 
'em  !  " 

So  the  Eve  of  St.  John,  with  its  traditions  and  omens, 
was  talked  over  in  the  regulation  "  mile  walk  "  that  next 
afternoon,  between  the  three  ;  and  it  was  absolutely  as 
serted  that  if  anybody  had  the  spunk  —  "  and  here  's 
Spunkie  !  "  Crack  interpolated — to  go  through  the  pre 
scribed  forms,  they  could  behold  and  read  in  a  vision  the 
whole  story  of  ten  years  to  come,  concerning  themselves 
and  their  friends. 

"  But  it  would  be  like  looking  over  to  the  end  of  a 
book,"  Sally  demurred,  "  would  n't  it  ?  I  think  the  in 
terest  would  be  all  used  up.  There  might  be  dreadful 
things,  besides,  you  know." 

"  Oh,"  said  Crack,  supplementing  with  ready  wit,  "  in 
these  kind  of  visions  you  are  n't  obliged  to  look  any  longer 


276  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

than  you  like.  You  can  dream  one  thing  all  out  and  drop 
another.  They  come  just  as  fast  as  you  —  sort  of  —  ask 
for  them.  Did  n't  you  ever  manage  a  dream  ?  Spin  it 
out,  or  turn  over  and  change  it  ?  Well,  you  can  always 
do  that  at  Midsummer  Eve  ;  only  what  you  do  dream  will 
be  certain  true.  But  it 's  the  charm,  part  I  don't  believe 
you  'd  dare  to  do.  I  don't  believe  /  should." 

"  Poh  !  "  said  Spunkie. 

"  I  '11  bet  you  half  a  pound  of  gumdrops  you  would  n't," 
said  Nell. 

"  Poh !  "  said  Spunkie  again,  whether  in  contempt  or 
acceptance,  they  could  hardly  tell.  But  they  left  it  there, 
being  tolerably  sure  she  would  do  it,  for  the  daring  if  not 
for  the  drops.  If  she  did  not,  they  had  another  way, 
though  they  would  rather  not  be  driven  to  it. 

It  would  probably  lose  them  their  Tuesday  plan. 

It  would  be  taking  beforehand  what  they  meant  to  beg 
for  then ;  but  this  they  had  little  hope  about,  anyhow,  un 
less  Sally's  new  soberness  was  broken  up,  and  she  were 
"  tuned  to  concert  pitch  "  for  the  occasion. 

VI. 

In  the  last  hour, —  between  eleven  and  twelve, —  with 
out  speaking  or  looking  over  her  shoulder, —  to  go  out  of 
the  house,  leaving  the  doors  a  crack  ajar  behind  her;  to 
walk  straight  to  the  well,  draw  up  some  water,  and  drink 
out  of  the  palm  of  the  left  hand  ;  to  put  a  pinch  of  salt 
upon  her  tongue,  which  —  the  salt  —  she  should  have  car 
ried  in  the  thumb  and  finger  of  her  right ;  to  go  —  still 
without  turning  —  to  the  nearest  fruit-tree  or  bush,  pick  a 
fruit  and  eat  it  while  she  counted  a  hundred  backwards ; 
walk  round  the  tree  three  times,  —  always  keeping  her 
face  in  the  same  direction,  and  never  glancing  to  the  right 


SALLY  GIBSON'S  SPUNK.  277 

or  left,  —  there  was  no  knowing  what  she  might  not  see 
or  have  happen  to  her  if  she  did,  —  then  to  come  back. 
That,  in  hrief,  was  the  prescription  as  they  gave  it  to  her. 

What  they  prescribed  for  themselves  at  the  same  time, 
without  mentioning  it  to  her,  was  also,  in  brief,  this  :  — 

To  have  leave  to  take  early  tea  at  the  Archers ;  there, 
a  walking  party  would  be  improvised  to  go  over  Round 
Top  through  the  Pine  Avenue  by  moonlight.  To  run 
home  at  eight  o'clock,  —  when  this  plan  should  be  set  on 
foot,  —  and  "get  leave"  —  of  each  other;  to  be  seen, 
thus,  at  this  hour,  apparently  returned  for  the  night ;  to 
slip  out  again,  by  ways  they  knew,  and  join  their  friends 
at  the  foot  of  the  park.  To  come  back  as  might  happen, 
—  they  would  have  a  delicious  wide  margin  for  their 
hours, — to  say  good-by  to  the  party  at  the  entrance  to  the 
seminary  grounds,  pass  around  to  the  basement  door  in 
the  wing,  and  there  conceal  themselves  to  wait  until  Sally 
should  go  out,  "  not  looking  over  her  shoulder,"  and  "  leav 
ing  the  door  a  crack  ajar." 

"  It  would  be  something  to  tell  of  till  they  were  gray  !  " 
Crack  said. 

It  was  settled  at  school  with  Fanny  Archer  on  Friday 
afternoon.  She  was  to  have  the  outside  management. 
There  were  to  be  Dick  and  Harry,  of  course,  Gorham 
Lewis  and  the  quiet  Olivers,  brother  and  sister,  next 
neighbors  to  the  Archers,  "  for  ballast,"  Fanny  said.  She 
knew  very  well  that  quiet  John  must  see  some  such  make 
weight  in  it,  or  he  would  not  help  it  through.  The  "  leave," 
too,  was  to  b»  asked  for  his  sake. 

The  Archers'  mother  was  not  living ;  the  doctor  was 
busy  day  and  night ;  and  John  was  at  once  mother  and 
elder  brother  to  this  only  sister,  who  gave  him,  it  must  be 
owned,  enough  to  do. 

Cora  and  Nell  looked  in  at  the  cherry-tree  room,  as 
they  went  off  for  their  tea-visit. 


278  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

"  How  is  it  to  be  about  the  '  Midsummer  Dream,'  Spun- 
kie  ?  "  they  asked. 

Sally  looked  up  with  a  flash  in  her  eyes.  "  I  '11  tell  you 
Monday,"  she  said.  Then  they  knew  she  would  do  it. 

"  May  be  we  '11  tell  you  Monday,  too,"  said  Crack ;  — 
and  they  ran  back  along  the  corridors,  and,  in  full  per 
mission  and  fearlessness,  down  the  front  staircase  and  out 
at  the  front  door. 

With  all  her  own  invention,  quickness,  and  merry  mis 
chief,  Sally  Gibson  was  the  most  innocent  of  young  hu 
man  beings  as  to  the  trickiness  which  accomplished  its 
own  ends  by  putting  the  risk  of  their  accomplishment 
upon  other  people.  She  was  thorough  and  honest  in  every 
game  and  project ;  she  played  her  part  precisely  as  agreed 
upon.  She  had  made  up  her  mind  to  try  this  prank,  and 
she  would  be  certain  to  try  it  full  and  fair. 

There  would  be  two  doors  for  her  to  unfasten  and  pass 
through ;  one  at  the  foot  of  the  wing  staircase,  and  open 
ing  upon  the  landing  of  a  short  flight  to  the  basement  en 
trance,  then  the  outer  door  in  this  lower  passage.  The 
well  was  around  the  corner,  at  the  back,  a  few  paces  from 
the  end  of  the  house ;  she  would  have  to  go  forty  yards 
beyond,  into  the  orchard,  and  get  a  green  apple. 

It  would  be  queer  if  she  should  not  dream  after  all 
that,  especially  the  apple.  But  Eve  was  strong  in  her, 
and  so  was  her  grandmother ;  there  was  no  harm  in  it, 
as  far  as  she  could  see,  unless  to  herself ;  and  eleven 
o'clock  found  her  up  and  watching,  in  her  little  brown 
double-gown,  and  her  bedroom  slippers,  soft,  warm,  and 
noiseless. 

She  flitted  along  the  passages,  and  down  the  staircase 
in  the  stillness  ;  not  without  that  eerie  feeling  that  one  has 
in  the  most  familiar  places,  when  out  of  one's  snug  nest 
in  the  night  time.  She  left  the  doors,  in  the  breathless 


SALLY   GIBSON'S  SPUNK.  279 

June  air,  a  crack  ajar.  The  bolts  slipped  easily ;  Crack 
had  told  her  they  did,  and  Crack  knew  ;  it  had  been  her 
care  that  they  should,  more  than  once  before  now.  She 
and  her  comrades  were  daring  more,  though,  now,  than 
they  had  ever  dared  before ;  and  comrades  were  fewer 
this  term  ;  in  an  escapade  of  this  sort  Cora  and  Nell  had 
only  themselves  and  Sally  Gibson's  spunk  —  if  they  could 
enlist  or  entrap  that  —  to  depend  upon. 

She  passed,  with  a  growing  beat  and  flutter  in  her 
bosom,  from  the  porchway  to  the  well.  She  never  looked 
behind,  or  thour/ht  behind,  to  suspect  or  discover  two 
other  figures  that  emerged  from  their  narrow  hiding  be 
yond  the  little  porch,  and  slipped  themselves  in.  She 
drew  the  water  with  steady  hands,  notwithstanding  the 
grains  of  salt  held  tight  in  thumb  and  finger.  She  knew 
she  must,  or  betray  the  movement  by  a  shaking  windlass 
or  a  clattering  bucket.  It  came  up,  cool  and  dark,  from 
the  cool,  dark  depths,  and  she  swung  it  noiselessly  to  the 
damp,  soft  rest-board.  She  dipped  her  left  hand  in ;  — 
what  was  that  sound  in  the  house  behind  her  ? 

A  great  rattle,  and  crash  and  smash,  it  seemed ;  as  if  a 
tin  or  a  china  closet  had  spilled  itself  inside  out.  this  night 
of  imps  and  witchery.  It  was  only  one  tin  pail,  that  the 
housemaid  had  left  standing  at  the  corner  of  the  upper 
step,  upon  the  landing.  Sally,  in  her  close  double-gown, 
had  come  safely  by.  Two,  in  full  muslin  skirts,  had  swept 
hurriedly  up  abreast,  in  single  eagerness  each  for  herself, 
and  the  house  was  startled. 

Not  for  a  moment  or  two,  however.  It  takes  a  minute 
or  two  between  a  noise  and  a  thorough  rousing.  We 
must  leave  Sally,  listening,  trembling,  outside,  and  whisk 
ourselves,  Midsummer  Night  fashion,  into  the  inside  scene. 

"  Bolt  the  door  !  —  let  out  the  cat  I  —  run,  hide  !  "  cried 
Nell  Southernwood,  in  a  terrified  whisper,  to  her  com- 


280  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

parion,  and  ran  herself  on  into  their  own  room,  and  fast 
ened  herself  in  there. 

They  had  their  shoes  in  their  hands.  Cora  flew  down 
the  five  steps,  bolted  the  door  into  the  porch,  flew  up, 
opened  a  door  upon  the  landing  into  a  clothes-closet, 
jerked  out  poor  pussy  by  the  nape  of  her  neck  from  her 
nap  in  the  wash-basket,  shut  and  bolted,  with  a  practiced 
hand,  the  upper  door,  and  whirled  herself  into  Sally's 
room  just  in  time. 

A  light  appeared  at  the  far  end  of  the  wing,  coming 
from  the  housekeeper's  bedroom.  There  were  sounds  of 
moving  in  other  rooms. 

Miss  Ladd  laid  her  hand  upon  the  knob  as  she  passed 
the  Ackworth-Southernwood  apartment. 

"  Young  ladies,  are  you  here  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  'm  !  What  is  it  ?  "  came  in  answer,  in  Miss 
Southernwood's  voice,  and  the  housekeeper  could  hear  her 
start  up  in  bed.  She  stopped  again  at  Sally's  door. 

"  Miss  Gibson  !  " 

"  Ma'am !  "  somebody  said,  with  Sally's  indescribable 
flattened  Yankee  length  upon  the  vowel,  but  in  a  breath 
less  sort  of  gasp,  in  which  the  voice  was  half  lost. 

Miss  Ladd  unbolted  the  door  upon  the  landing.  The 
cat  rushed  up,  with  glittering  eyes,  out  of  the  darkness. 

"  A  very  careless  piece  of  business  altogether ! "  said 
Miss  Ladd  to  herself  and  the  cat.  If  pussy  could  have 
spoken,  she  might  have  assured  the  lady  how  very  careful 
it  had  been,  and  how  many  times  before  she  had  been 
shut  up  in  wise  reserve. 

Doors  were  "  a  crack  ajar  "  all  along  the  passages,  and 
noses  out,  Cora's  and  Nell's  no  less  than  all  the  rest. 

"  Return  to  your  beds,  young  ladies,"  said  the  house 
keeper,  in  a  general  way,  as  she  walked  along.  "  There 
is  nothing  the  matter.  Only  a  carelessness  of  Hannah's," 


SALLY  GIBSON'S  SPUNK.  281 

she  added,  over  the  balusters,  to  Miss  Wilcroft's  own 
inquiry  from  the  front  hall  below. 

"  Return  to  your  beds,  young  ladies,"  repeated  Miss 
Wilcroft,  "  and  remember  the  rules." 

"  It  was  an  awful  noise !  "  panted  Nell.  "  We  are 
frightened  just  to  death." 

The  two  confederates  left  each  the  other  serenely  to 
her  own  devices.  As  to  Sally,  "  She  11  climb  up  by  the 
cherry-tree,  of  course,"  said  Crack  to  herself.  "She  isn't 
a  fool.  And  then  —  we  shall  have  her  !  " 

She  looked  to  the  window,  found  it  open  to  the  first 
catch  of  the  spring,  softly  lifted  it  to  the  highest,  and 
presently  slid  off  to  her  own  quarters.  There  she  said, 
solemnly  addressing  an  article  of  furniture,  before  which 
she  sat  down  on  the  floor  to  take  off  her  stockings,  "  Bureau, 
my  dear,  that  was  the  very  scrapiest  scrape  you  and  I  ever 
got  into  yet !  " 

It  was  a  ''  rule  "  that  the  young  ladies  were  not  to  con 
verse  with  each  other  in  their  bedrooms  after  ten  o'clock, 
and  they  reported  themselves  daily  in  regard  to  the  keep 
ing  of  these  ordinary  rules.  An  apostrophe  to  a  bureau 
was  not  upon  the  consciences  of  some  in  these  reports. 

Sally  listened,  with  her  back  to  the  door,  and  the  pinch 
of  salt  held  fast  in  her  fingers.  The  noise  ceased,  and 
the  hush  of  safety  came.  She  had  heard  no  footsteps,  nor 
the  drawing  of  the  bolt.  How  should  she,  out  there  at 
the  well,  when  the  house  inmates  could  not  ?  She  won 
dered  if  Crack  and  Nell  had  not  watched  her  and  then 
made  some  racket  to  frighten  her  into  turning  back  again. 

"  And  get  caught,  too  !  "  she  exclaimed  within  herself, 
indignantly.  "  Little  they  'd  care  !  "  All  the  more  she 
kept  on,  now,  to  the  apple-tree.  She  felt  like  the  Princess 
Parizadc. 

Over  by  the  little  pr.rk  somebody  else  leaned  quietly 


282  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

against  a  tree,  its  trunk  between  him  and  the  boarding- 
house  building.  Over  his  shoulder  he  watched  the  soli 
tary  little  figure  as  it  passed  from  the  well  on  into  the  dark 
ness  of  the  orchard.  "  Sleep-walking?"  he  wondered.  Or 
what  were  all  these  tangled  mysteries  of  school-girl  life  ? 

John  Archer  had  not  felt  satisfied  when  the  two  young 
ladies  had  left  them,  begging,  commanding,  not  to  be 
accompanied  further  than  the  park  corner. 

"  The  truth  is,"  Cora  said,  when  he  objected,  "  it  is 
Saturday  night,  and  "  — 

That  truth  was  patent.  It  was  as  far  as  she  could  go 
with  the  truth  ;  the  "  and  "  stopped  her.  Nell  finished, 
abruptly,  — 

"  We  are  out  of  hours,  and  shall  have  to  get  in  our  own 
way.  Now  go,  please.  It 's  all  right." 

They  had  even  spoken  a  little  crossly.  It  had  been 
but  a  stupid  frolic,  after  all,  to  risk  so  much  for.  Fan 
had  not  been  able  to  arrange  everything.  She  had  given 
Dick  Southernwood  a  hint  the  night  before  that  the  moon 
light  walk  might  be ;  but  he  had  been  off  all  day  with 
Ackworth  and  Oldridge  and  the  Lewises ;  and  it  turned 
out  that  they  had  gone  to  Widefield,  fishing,  and  got  back, 
in  the  usual  plight  of  fishermen,  just  as  the  party  reached 
Judge  Lewis's  gates,  on  the  first  slopes  of  Round  Top, 
where  it  had  been  confidently  counted  on  that  they  would 
join.  There  had  only  been  Fanny,  themselves,  slow  John, 
and  the  quiet  Olivers.  The  excitement  had  been  the 
tracing  of  Mars  and  Saturn's  places  as  they  came  up  in 
the  bright  southeastern  constellations.  They  were  a  little 
vehement  in  dismissing  "  slow,  honest  John." 

But  John  had  let  his  sister  go  on  with  the  Olivers,  and 
meant  to  see  for  himself  that  their  "  all  right "  was  right, 
so  far,  at  least,  as  their  safety  was  concerned. 

Not  to  annoy  or  compromise  them,  he  let  them  go  their 


SALLY  GIBSON'S  SPUNK.  283 

own  way  up  the  avenue  on  the  east  side,  keeping  all  the 
park  shrubbery  between  them  and  the  house ;  but  he  fol 
lowed,  at  a  little  distance,  as  far  as  the  Seminary  front. 
He  saw  them,  in  the  faint  light  of  the  low,  early-setting 
moon,  flit  off  around  the  great  gray  building,  instead  of 
crossing  the  avenue  direct,  and  so  throwing  their  light 
dresses  in  relief  against  the  dark  fence  and  hedges,  in 
view  from  the  windows. 

He  saw  them  scud  out  from  the  orchard,  and  gain  the 
cover  of  the  well-curb ;  then,  close  under  the  shed,  pass 
along  to  the  little  porchway ;  its  black,  shut  door  gave 
their  white  figures  clearly  as  they  went  by  ;  and  then, 
upon  a  bulkhead,  or  something  like,  beyond,  he  saw  them 
crouch,  in  a  little  cloudy  heap,  and  wait  motionless. 

He  looked  at  his  watch  in  the  moonlight,  holding  it 
carefully  to  catch  a  glinting  ray  direct  upon  it.  The 
black  hands  upon  the  white  face  stood  at  half-past  ten. 
All  was  dark  in  the  Seminary  boarding-house ;  the  lights 
were  always  out  at  ten.  The  moon  went  out,  now,  at  her 
hour,  behind  Round  Top,  and  there  was  only  the  thin, 
tremulous  starlight. 

"  Queer,"  the  young  man  thought,  settling  himself  in 
the  corner  of  the  deep,  recessed  entrance  to  the  Seminary. 
"  But  I  can  stand  it  as  long  as  they  can." 

He  waited  there  the  half  hour,  till  the  heavy  bell  near 
by  sounded  eleven.  He  saw  the  door  open,  showing  the 
blacker  shade  of  space  within  ;  he  saw  Sally  step  out  and 
turn  away ;  then  the  swift  gliding  in  behind  of  the  two 
stealthy  figures,  that  he  began  to  think  wore  all  their 
white,  like  the  whited  sepulchres,  on  the  outside  ;  and 
then  came  the  noise,  the  glancing  light,  and  the  dead  still 
ness  again,  — with  that  one  solitary  girl-form,  in  its  straight, 
dusky  wrapper,  standing  by  the  well. 


284  HOMESPUN  YARNS. 


VII. 

The  Princess  Parizade  came  back,  having  counted  her 
hundred,  and  eaten  her  green  apple.  Looking  neither  to 
the  right  nor  left,  she  walked  to  the  door  —  and  found  it 
fast.  Still  thinking  it  a  joke,  she  waited,  listened,  tried 
again.  She  thought  they  meant  to  terrify  her  —  to  try 
her  spunk  to  the  utmost ;  to  make  her  speak,  and  break 
the  charm,  perhaps. 

She  scratched  lightly,  like  a  mouse,  upon  the  panels. 
She  would  let  them  know  she  understood,  and  was  not 
afraid.  She  listened,  tried  again.  Dead  stillness,  and  the 
door  as  solid  as  the  wall. 

Without  turning,  she  slipped  along  to  the  house-corner, 
and  into  the  angle  under  the  cherry-tree.  Above  her  was 
her  own  window,  wide  open.  She  knew  she  had  not  left 
it  so. 

She  was  sure  now  that  the  girls  were  teasing  her.  They 
were  in  her  room,  perhaps,  and  would  look  out  presently. 
But,  in  the  stillness,  she  could  almost  have  heard  a  breath, 
—  she  drew  a  long  and  audible  one  herself,  as  a  call,  — 
and  yet  in  five  minutes  more,  that  seemed  half  an  hour, 
she  caught  no  breath  or  rustle.  She  felt  as  if  she  had 
searched  the  space  with  ears  like  eyes,  and  found  it 
empty. 

Well  —  there  was  the  cherry-tree.  And  was  n't  this 
an  emergency  ?  She  had  her  hand  upon  one  of  the  heavy 
green  blind-slats  of  the  wood-house,  and  grasped  it  firmly. 
It  would  have  been  as  easy  as  going  up-stairs.  But  the 
thought  flashed  clearly  into  her  mind,  —  was  it  any  more 
an  innocent  emergency  than  it  would  have  been  to  have 
had  to  get  out  that  way,  or  not  try  her  Midsummer  charm 
at  all  ? 


SALLY  GIBSON'S  SPUNK.  285 

It  was  an  emergency  of  her  own  making,  for  her  own 
fun,  in  a  daring  exploit.  Had  she  any  more  right  to  finish 
than  to  begin  it  by  a  breaking  of  her  word  ? 

Sally  Gibson's  spunk  was  getting  too  much  for  her. 
She  had  it  in  two  sorts,  it  seemed,  and  the  one  was  always 
running  itself  up  against  the  other,  and  getting  annihi 
lated. 

She  went  back  to  the  doorstep,  turned  the  latch  once 
more,  and  then  sat  down  to  think.  She  came  pretty  near 
the  truth.  They  had  set  her  window  wide  open,  that  she 
might  get  in  after  she  had  been  sufficiently  frightened  by 
the  locking  out ;  and  they  had  gone  to  bed. 

Knock,  and  alarm  the  house,  she  could  not.  Even  if 
she  had  dared  for  herself,  —  almost  Sunday  morning  as  it 
was,  —  there  was  the  locking  out ;  and,  mean  as  it  had 
been,  she  would  not  get  the  others  into  the  scrape.  They 
did  not  know  that  she  could  not  come  in  by  the  tree  and 
the  window. 

John  Archer  had  changed  his  post,  crossing  to  the  big 
linden  at  the  head  of  the  park.  The  brown  figure  rose 
slowly  from  the  doorstep  and  walked  directly  towards 
him.  He  knew  how  to  dodge  round  a  tree-trunk,  and  he 
coolly  kept  it  between  her  and  himself  till  she  reached  the 
seminary  building,  and  he  saw  her  go  up  the  two  long, 
broad  steps  to  the  main  door. 

"  Will  she  get  in  ?  And  will  she  dare  to  stay  there  all 
night  ?  And  will  it  be  fit  to  let  her  ?  "  He  thought  all 
that  while  she  tried  the  great  latch  and  found  it  fastened. 
Then  he  stepped  out,  and  said,  in  a  calm,  gentle  voice, 
"  I  am  John  Archer.  Can  I  help  you  ?  " 

"  Oh  dear !  "  cried  poor  little  Sally,  starting  wildly,  and 
forgetting  all  about  her  St.  John's  Eve  charm ;  if,  indeed, 
that  had  not  been  the  last  thing  in  her  thoughts  for  a 
quarter  of  an  hour.  "  How  came  you  here  ?  Oh  dear  !  " 


286  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

"  How  came  either  of  us  here,  oh  dear  ? "  said  John 
Archer,  a  little  bit  contemptuously,  notwithstanding  his 
kindness.  "  And  how  came  those  other  two  to  go  in  and 
shut  you  out  ?  " 

"  Did  they  go  in  ?  Perhaps  they  thought  they  would 
come  too,  and  got  frightened." 

"  Come  ?  What  do  you  mean  ?  They  had  been,  I  should 
think." 

"  Been  ?  Don't  tell  me,  if  it 's  anything  I  don't  know. 
I  'd  rather  keep  my  own  part  to  myself,"  said  Sally,  with 
all  the  real  Grandmother  Punchard  alive  in  her  now,  and 
her  wits  about  her. 

"  And  won't  you  please  go  home  ?  "  It  was  the  second 
time  that  night  a  young  lady  had  told  him  to  go  home. 

"  Of  course  I  will  go  home,"  he  said,  almost  as  if  it  had 
been  Sally  both  times ;  "  but  I  should  like  to  see  you  safe 
first.  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  sure  yet,"  said  Sally,  coolly,  looking  down 
at  him  from  the  top  step,  but  covering  up,  none  the  less,  a 
great  anxiety  with  her  coolness.  "  I  can  ring  the  bells," 
she  mused. 

"  I  think  you  had  better,"  said  John  Archer. 

"  I  won't  if  I  can  help  it,"  said  Sally  to  that,  quite 
stoutly.  "  I  don't  think  I  deserve  to  get  into  an  awful 
scrape,  and  that  would  be  one.  If  the  gallery  door  is  n't 
locked,  I  can  get  in  here  ;  "  and  she  turned  round  and 
tried  it  as  she  spoke.  It  opened  from  the  end  of  the 
porched  recess  upon  the  foot  of  a  narrow  little  flight  of 
stairs.  She  stepped  inside. 

"  I  'm  all  right  now,"  she  said.  "  Please  go.  Good 
night."  She  would  have  shut  the  door,  but  John  Archer, 
although  it  was  the  third  time  of  asking,  made  a  long  step 
to  the  threshold,  and  stood  in  such  a  way  there  that  she 
could  not  do  so  without  almost  pushing  it  upon  him. 


SALLY  GIBSON'S  SPUNK.  287 

"  I  don't  like  this,"  he  said,  as  stoutly  as  she.  "  It 's 
none  of  my  business  ;  but  I  'm  here,  and  I  feel  responsible 
about  leaving  you  so.  I  wish  I  knew  at  least  enough  to 
understand  "  — 

John  Archer  had  thought  Sally  Gibson  a  nice,  simple 
girl ;  lively  enough,  but  he  had  noticed  that  her  liveliness 
stopped  short  of  some  things  where  that  of  the  other  girls 
sprang  into  fullest  play.  He  did  not  like  leaving  her 
where  she  stood  now,  in  more  ways  than  one. 

"  You  'd  like  to  know  what  I  was  out  in  the  orchard 
for  ?  I  'd  rather  tell  you  than  not.  I  went  to  get  a  green 
apple,  —  and  a  Midsummer  Night's  dream.  I  guess  I 
shall  have  it.  Now  go.  And  thank  you." 

She  spoke  with  the  brusqueness  of  fifteen,  and  of  a  girl 
whose  habit  it  was  to  say  exactly  what  she  meant. 

"  Here 's  Fanny's  shawl,"  he  said,  and  thrust  it  in 
through  the  closing  door.  "She  lent  it  to"  —  but  the 
door  shut.  She  would  not  hear  whom  it  had  been  lent  to. 

Curled  up  in  the  corner  of  one  of  the  great  bowed  win 
dows,  rolled  in  Fanny  Archer's  Rob  Roy  plaid,  her 
head  upon  an  old  leather  cushion  from  a  platform  chair, 
Sally  Gibson  dreamed  out  several  things  that  midsummer 
night  that  had  not  been  in  her  philosophy  before. 

After  the  first,  she  ceased  to  be  afraid.  There  was 
companionship  in  the  stir  of  the  silver  poplars  softly 
rustled  by  the  faint  rising  breeze.  Now  and  then  a  bird 
nestled  and  chirped,  and  at  first  daylight,  a  flock  of  black 
birds  came  fluttering  and  "  chucking  "  among  the  boughs 
of  the  orchard. 

If  it  had  been  the  right  sort  of  adventure  that  had 
brought  her  there,  there  would  have  been  a  good  deal  of 
exciting  and  sweet  relish  about  it.  She  seemed  to  be 
abroad  with  the  night,  and  to  find  out  the  story  of  it  by 
being  one  of  the  happy,  homeless  things  who  need  not 


288  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

hide  away  from  it,  because  the  darkness  and  the  sweet 
stillness  are  themselves  their  house. 

At  six  o'clock  she  hung  up  Fanny's  shawl  in  the  cloak 
room  below,  walked  straightforwardly  from  the  Seminary 
to  the  boarding-house,  and  let  what  would  come  of  it. 
She  scorned  any  skulking.  If  she  had  skulked,  she  would 
have  been  sooner  suspected.  A  housemaid  saw  her,  and 
thought  she  had  been  over  to  the  school-rooms  to  fetch 
something.  Nobody  else  met  her. 

Sunday  rules  were  strict.  Prayers,  singing,  Bible  les 
sons,  meals,  church,  writing  of  sermon  notes,  —  these  took 
up  hour  after  hour. 

Nobody  guessed  —  unless  it  were  John  Archer,  looking 
down  from  the  choir  gallery  —  the  thoughts  that  lurked, 
and  waited,  and  grew,  that  day,  under  three  of  the  cot 
tage-bonnets  in  the  long  Seminary  pew.  Sweet  and  maid 
en-like,  all  three,  with  their  little  round  face-caps  and 
wreaths  ;  Cora's  of  pink  daisies,  and  Nell's  of  blue  forget- 
me-nots,  and  Sally's  of  small  rosebuds. 

In  the  half  hour  of  liberty  between  tea  and  evening 
singing,  Cora  and  Nell  came  arm  in  arm  down  the  long 
hall  to  where  Sally  was  standing  in  the  doorway. 

"Did  you  get  your  dream  last  night?"  Cora  asked 
her.  All  the  def errings  of  the  day  had  given  her  no  more 
time  than  she  was  glad  of,  before  the  asking  of  that  ques 
tion,  which  she  was  yet  too  anxious  to  let  wait  longer. 
There  had  been  something  a  wee  bit  unapproachable  and 
ominous  in  Sally  Gibson's  air.  Yet  Crack  inquired  of  her 
with  a  jolly  nonchalance. 

"Yes,  I  did,"  said  Sally. 

"  Oh,  what  was  it  ? "  cried  Nell,  excitedly.  A  little 
obtuse  Nell  was,  and  took  things  at  the  foot  of  the  letter ; 
apt,  too,  as  such  literal  people  are,  to  jump  readily  at  the 
marvelous. 


SALLY  GIBSON'S   SPVNK.  289 

"  I  dreamt  I  saw  my  grandmother,"  said  Sally,  "  and 
she  said  to  me,  '  You  've  got  my  best  coat  and  mantle,  of 
good,  handsome  stuff ;  but  you  're  determined  to  put  it  on 
wrong  side  out ;  and  you  don't  keep  out  of  the  dust  and 
mud  with  it.  If  you  want  to  settle  about  the  next  ten 
years,  you  '11  have  to  settle  first  which  way  you  're  going 
to  wear  things.'  " 

"  Was  that  all  ?  "  asked  Nell. 

"  All  there  is  to  tell,"  said  Sally,  and  walked  away. 

"  Do  you  expect  she  really  did  dream  that,  Crack  ?  " 

"  Probably,"  Crack  answered,  looking  after  Sally  rather 
uneasily.  "  We  told  her  she  could  dream  pretty  much 
what  she  was  o'  mind  to ;  and  I  presume  she  was  o'  mind 
to  dream  that." 

'*  Do  you  believe  she  's  mad  ?  " 

"  She  's  something  when  she  spits  like  that.  But  she 
can't  say  anything,  after  all.  She's  done  it  herself,  and 
now  she  can't  hinder  us.  She  's  fair  enough  to  see  that." 

On  Monday  noon,  armed  with  the  half-pound  of  gum- 
drops,  the  twain  came  to  Sally's  room. 

Cora  began,  with  an  insinuating  blandness,  springing  at 
once  all  fences,  and  landing  herself  in  close  intimacy  and 
privilege. 

"  See  here,"  she  said.  "  We  want  a  favor  of  you.  We 
want  you  to  '  lind  us  the  loan  of  yer  gridiron,'  as  the 
Irishman  said.  Nobody  's  got  a  gridiron  but  you.  And 
you  won't  keep  it  all  to  yourself,  will  you,  Spunkie  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean." 

"  Here  's  your  bet,"  put  in  Nell,  thinking  it  a  good 
time  to  parenthesize  with  the  gum-drops,  and  holding 
forth  the  parcel. 

"  I  did  n't  bet,"  said  Sally.  "  I  don't  want  it.  I  don't 
know  what  you  mean,"  she  repeated  to  Cora. 

"  Well,  I  mean  this  :  (Nell,  you  're  a  goose  !)  there  's  to 


290  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

be  a  row  on  the  river  to-morrow  evening,  all  the  way  up 
to  Tomahawk,  by  moonlight.  And  Nell  and  I  are  asked. 
And  we  want  you  to  let  us  out  and  in,  — your  way,  you 
know." 

"  You  're  welcome  to  my  way,  if  you  like  it.  But  you 
can  take  it  for  yourselves,  without  coming  to  me,  I  should 
think." 

"  If  you  '11  leave  your  door  unlocked,"  said  Cora,  de 
lighted.  "  And  let  your  window  be  'way  up  till  we  come 
back.  We  '11  all  go  next  time.  You  've  never  been  on 
the  river,  Sally.  What  a  blessing  that  old  cherry-tree  is, 
now  that  one  of  us  has  got  this  room  !  Only  it 's  almost 
too  easy." 

"  Wait  a  minute.  You  've  made  a  mistake.  That  is  n't 
my  way,  and  it  is  n't  going  to  be  yours." 

"  You  won't  let  us  through  ?  Is  that  what  you  mean  ?  " 
and  Cora's  face  changed  swiftly  as  she  turned  from  the 
window  upon  her. 

"  Yes.     Exactly." 

"  You  're  high  and  mighty,  I  should  think !  Who  came 
up  that  way  at  midnight,  Saturday  ?  And  who  's  going 
to  be  monitor  now?" 

"  Nobody,"  said  Sally,  quietly,  letting  the  word  stand 
for  whichever  answer  it  might.  Cora  chose,  not  really 
believing,  to  take  it  for  the  first,  and  pursued  her  point. 

"  How  did  you  get  into  the  house,  then  ?  We  know 
you  had  to,  for  there  was  a  scrimmage  between  the  cat 
and  a  tin  pail  on  the  little  stairway,  and  everybody  was 
scared  up,  and  the  doors  got  locked.  You  could  n't  have 
got  in  any  other  way,  and  I  went  and  fixed  the  window 
for  you.  Much  thanks  I  get !  " 

"  I  did  n't  get  in.     I  stayed  out  all  night." 

"  Oh  my  soul !  "  ejaculated  Crack,  and  Nell  Southern 
wood  turned  pale  and  choked,  trying  to  speak. 


SALLY   GIBSON'S   SPUNK.  291 

"  And  after  that,  you  '11  undertake  to  dictate  ?  That 
would  be  a  pretty  story  to  tell !  " 

"Tell!"  said  Sally,  like  a  thunder-clap.  "  You  say 
tell!" 

"  Well,  yes,"  said  Cora,  doggedly.  "  I  don't  say  tattle. 
But  things  come  out  if  they  are  n't  kept  in.  And  you  'd 
find  you  'd  have  to  tell." 

Sally  looked  right  at  her.  Not  a  look  on  purpose  for  a 
look  —  of  wrath  or  scorn.  A  look  for  the  sake  of  see 
ing  —  what  sort  of  animal  this  girl  might  be.  Cora  Ack- 
worth  felt  the  look  and  the  seeing  through  and  through 
her.  Sally  had  been  sitting.  She  got  up  now. 

"  You  have  n't  made  me  find  anything  that  I  had  to  do 
or  had  not.  Remember  that,  please.  I  found  it  all  be 
fore  ;  "  and  with  that  she  walked  out  of  the  room. 

"  She 's  gone  to  tell !  "  gasped  Nelly  Southernwood. 
"  Grandmother  Punchard  's  waked  up  again  !  "  The  cer 
tainty  flashed  sharp  across  her  dullness,  like  lightning 
across  the  night. 

VIII. 

Miss  Wilcroft  was  always  in  the  little  study  at  this  hour. 
She  sat  there  now,  some  books  and  papers  before  her  on 
her  table  at  the  window. 

A  knock  came.  She  called,  "Come!  "  and  Sally  Gib 
son  entered.  Miss  Wilcroft  laid  down  her  pencil,  looked 
up  at  her  pupil,  and  waited  for  her  to  speak. 

"  I  've  come,  ma'am,  to  tell  you  something.  It  is  very 
bad,  but  I  can't  make  it  any  better  by  a  long  story.  I 
was  out  after  hours  Saturday  night,  and  when  I  tried  to 
get  in  the  doors  were  locked.  I  had  to  stay  out." 

Anything  like  this,  so  calmly  acknowledged,  Miss  Wil 
croft  had  never  encountered  before  in  her  whole  experi- 


292  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

ence.     Her  large,   serious    eyes  widened  with  astonish 
ment.     The  little  pink  bow  under  her  chin  thrilled. 
"  You  stayed  out  ?  "  she  repeated,  slowly. 
"  Yes,  ma'am.     I  had  no  way  to  get  in  —  except  the 
window.    I  thought  of  that,  but  I  concluded  that  it  was  n't 
a  real  emergency  —  that  I  could  n't  have  helped  —  and  I 
had  n't  any  right." 

"  What  were  you  out  for  ?  Where  did  you  go  ?  "  Miss 
Wilcroft  rarely  asked  two  questions  at  once,  but  ten  would 
not  have  met  the  points  of  her  perplexity. 

"  It  was  nonsense.  Something  I  had  heard  about  Mid 
summer  Eve,  and  a  charm,  and  a  dream.  I  thought  I  'd 
try  it,  because  it  was  a  little  scaring.  I  went  as  far  as 
the  orchard." 

"  How  did  you  get  out  ?  " 

"  I  opened  the  doors." 

"  And  they  were  locked  when  you  came  back  ?  " 

"  Yes,  ma'am.  There  was  a  noise  in  the  house.  I  be 
lieve  the  cat  had  upset  something.  And  I  suppose  some 
body  found  the  doors  unlocked,  and  fastened  them." 

"  Sit  down.  I  must  understand  this.  The  noise  hap 
pened  at  near  midnight.  Were  you  out  then?  " 

"  Yes,  ma'am.  I  went  out  after  it  struck  eleven.  That 
was  the  time  for  it." 

"  And  this  was  pure  fun  ?  Of  your  own  ?  There  was 
no  one  else  —  nothing  else  —  concerned  ?  " 

"  I  was  all  alone.     It  was  all  my  own  concern." 

"  No  one  with  you  at  any  moment  ?  You  spoke  with 
no  one  before  or  after  ?  " 

"  Accidentally,  —  yes,  ma'am."  Sally  said  it  slowly, 
reluctantly. 

"  With  whom,  if  you  please  ?  " 

"  Mr.  John  Archer."  The  words  fell  into  a  silence  that 
felt  tremendous. 


SALLY  GIBSON'S  SPUNK.  293 

"  Explain,  Miss  Gibson  !  "  Miss  Wilcroft's  tone  was 
really  shocked  and  awful  now. 

"  I  cannot  explain.  He  appeared  to  be  going  through 
the  grounds,  —  and  he  stopped  —  when  he  saw  me  —  and 
thought  I  was  locked  out  —  and  asked  if  he  could  help  me 
any  way." 

"  And  you  ?  " 

"  I  thanked  him,  and  asked  him  to  go  home ;  and  I 
went  up  into  the  Seminary  gallery,  and  stayed  there." 

"  Is  this  all  that  happened,  and  all  you  know  ?  " 

"  It  is  all  that  happened  to  me,  and  it  is  all  I  know  that 
happened  at  all." 

"  I  suppose  you  see,"  said  Miss  Wilcroft  after  a  pause, 
—  and  her  voice  had  a  tone  of  real  trouble, —  "that  this 
is  a  most  serious  thing  ?  So  serious  "  — 

Sally  was  struck  with  a  terror  she  had  not  felt  before. 

"You  won't  send  me  away,  Miss  Wilcroft?" 

"  I  do  not  know  what  to  do  with  you,  Sally,"  Miss  Wil 
croft  said ;  and  the  monosyllables  fell  separately  and  heavy 
from  her  lips.  "  You  are  not  a  bad  girl,  yourself ;  you 
have  some  noble  traits  ;  there  are  noble  traits  even  in 
this  wrong  business,  and  your  confession  of  it ;  but  you 
demoralize  my  school.  You  are  dangerous." 

"  I  do  not  mean  to  be  any  more,"  said  Sally,  stoutly 
meek.  "  I  have  been  wrong  side  out.  Now  I  am  going 
to  turn,  —  whatever  you  do  to  me." 

"  You  must  go  to  your  own  room,  and  remain  there. 
This  thing  is  not  ended.  No  one  is  to  come  to  you,  and 
you  are  to  speak  to  no  one,  until  I  send  for  you." 

Sally  took  her  sentence  and  left  the  room.  She  met 
four  or  five  girls  on  the  way,  —  neither  Cora  nor  Nell 
were  among  them,  —  but  she  passed  on  without  a  word, 
reached  her  room,  and  locked  herself  in.  In  the  midst 
of  her  trouble  she  was  proud  to  be  trusted  so  far. 


294  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

Nobody  saw  her  again,  either  that  day  or  the  next.  All 
else  seemed  to  be  going  on  as  usual.  But  there  was  a 
terrible  vague  rumor  afloat  that  Spunkie  had  done  some 
thing  beyond  forgiveness.  It  was  evident  that  she  was  in 
deep  disgrace,  and  that  some  mysterious  event  was  im 
pending. 

Miss  Wilcroft  sent  for  the  housekeeper  to  come  to  her 
in  her  study.  She  told  the  story  to  her.  "  It  is  all  the 
child  knows,  evidently,"  she  said. 

"  But  there  is  more  which  we  ought  to  know.  The  ques 
tion  is,  Who  locked  those  doors  ?  " 

It  was  all  over  with  the  rowing-party  for  Nell  and  Cora. 
Yet  they  were  in  relieved,  self-gratulatory  spirits ;  almost 
as  if  the  thing  they  had  planned  to  do  were  an  involuntary 
danger  that  had  been  lifted  from  them.  They  felt  so  in 
nocent  in  that  which  they  had  been  interrupted  in.  They 
had  not  stayed  out  all  night. 

In  all  this  overhanging  mystery  and  threatening,  no 
questions  had  been  asked  of  them.  They  were  bright 
enough  to  know  the  point  wherein  their  imminent  peril 
lay;  but  that  did  not  seem  to  have  been  inquired  into. 
Sally  had  evidently  made  but  the  simplest  possible  confes 
sion  of  herself,  out  of  pure  grit,  that  would  not  take  or 
remain  under  a  menace.  That  she  should  have  seen  John 
Archer,  or  had  anything  to  answer  to  what  so  nearly 
touched  their  own  little  safe  affair,  they  never  dreamed.. 

There  were  other  things  they  never  dreamed  of. 

Hannah,  the  housemaid,  who  had  been  reproved  for  her 
negligence,  came  to  Miss  Ladd  on  the  Monday  afternoon, 
with  a  scrap  of  blue  figured  lawn  in  her  thumb  and  finger. 

"  If  the  cat  tipped  over  that  pail,  mum,  the  cat  had  on 
a  musling  gownd  the  living  likeness  of  Miss  Ackworth's. 
I  found  this  sticking  in  the  ear  of  it." 

"The  cat!" 


SALLY  GIBSON'S  SPUNK.  295 

"  The  pail,  mum,"  explained  Hannah.  "  And  I  would  n't 
meddle  in  the  matter  out  of  any  spite  ;  but  if  there  's  to  be 
a  hanging,  I  think  there  'd  better  be  a  ketching  of  all  the 
killprits  first.  And  since  it 's  begunned  upon,  I  must  say 
it 's  borne  in  upon  me  that  it  ain't  the  first  time ;  and  if 
things  continyers,  we  '11  all  be  in  tin  pails,  or  worse 
scrapes,  when  we  're  slumbering  like  babes  in  our  beds." 

Miss  Ladd  took  the  bit  of  torn  muslin,  with  its  peculiar 
pretty  little  dropping  blue-bell  on  it,  to  Miss  Wilcroft's 
room. 

That  lady  had  just  sent  this  note,  of  stately  old  fashion, 
to  John  Archer  : 

"  Miss  Wilcroft  presents  compliments  to  Mr.  John 
Archer,  and  would  like  to  see  him  on  a  matter  of  impor 
tance.  She  will  esteem  it  a  particular  favor  if  Mr.  Archer 
will  call  upon  her  at  the  cottage  this  afternoon." 

Mr.  John  Archer  called.  Mr.  John  Archer  behaved 
like  a  gentleman,  —  a  gentleman  in  a  dilemma.  He  ex 
plained  his  presence  in  the  Seminary  grounds  on  Saturday 
night ;  but  frankly  declared  that  he  would  rather  not  be 
pressed  for  the  names  of  the  two  young  ladies  who  had 
been  of  the  party  that  evening,  since  it  seemed  to  have 
been  without  permission. 

Miss  Wilcroft  was  glad  to  assure  him,  politely,  in  her 
turn,  that  it  would  be  needless  for  her  to  insist,  as  quite 
other  testimony  already  pointed  to  the  fact  which  it  was 
necessary  to  elucidate. 

Mr.  Archer  avoided,  dexterously,  the  details  of  hour 
and  incident  that  would  most  aggravate  the  matter  ;  but 
was  obliged  to  own  that  he  had  delayed  "  awhile  "  in  anx 
iety  to  be  certain  if  his  charge  entered  the  house  in  safety, 
and  that  they  had  apparently  taken  advantage  of  the  "  un 
expected  "  opening  of  the  door  to  do  so. 

He  clearly  established  Sally  Gibson's  story  of  herself ; 


296  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

and  it  was  pretty  evident,  through  all  his  chivalry  for  the 
delinquents,  that  his  sentiment  in  regard  to  their  conduct 
or  fate  went  no  further  than  a  manly  unwillingness  to  pre 
cipitate  the  revelation  or  its  ill  consequence  upon  them ; 
while  for  Miss  Sally  there  was  an  irrepressible  tone  of 
championship  in  what  he  believed  to  have  been  some  sly 
ill  usage  of  her ;  and  his  appreciation  of  her  spirit  and 
straightforwardness  he  took  no  trouble  to  conceal. 

"  I  don't  pretend  to  know  the  right  and  wrong  of  it," 
he  said ;  "  and  I  would  rather  not  answer  questions  if  I 
did ;  but  if  my  sister  made  a  mistake,  I  hope  she  would 
walk  out  of  it  with  as  much  pluck  and  dignity  as  Miss 
Sally  did  out  of  hers,  —  that 's  all." 

A  ball  of  yarn  may  be  big  —  ever  so  big  —  have  hun 
dreds  of  yards  in  it  —  and  be  tightly  wound  together ;  but 
it  is  unrolled  very  easily  when  once  the  end  is  found.  A 
good  many  little  twists  that  had  puzzled  excellent  Miss 
Wilcroft  and  her  assistants  came  out  and  showed  a  clear, 
continued  thread  in  this  winding  up  that  they  had  got 
hold  of. 

Miss  Wilcroft  quietly  gathered  all  into  her  own  hands 
as  it  came  forth,  —  stopped  all  gossip  and  spread,  —  said 
her  word  of  authority  or  influence  here  and  there. 

The  only  thing  that  appeared  was  that  Sally  Gibson 
was  in  punishment,  and  that  something  had  been  thor 
oughly  inquired  into  and  as  thoroughly  hushed  up.  This 
was  not  a  novelty  in  Miss  Wilcroft's  serenely  autocratic 
administration. 

Nobody  knew,  except  Miss  Ladd  and  herself,  that  these 
two  made  an  official  visit  to  Number  5  in  the  wing,  just 
after  the  lights  were  out,  at  ten  on  Tuesday  evening. 
Nobody  knew,  of  course,  then,  how  long  that  visit  was, 
nor  how  much  was  accomplished. 

Everybody  knew  next  morning  at  dressing-time,  that 


SALLY  GIBSON'S  SPUNK.  297 

the  Eastern  stage  had  come,  with  an  awful  lumbering,  up 
to  the  front  door  at  half-past  five,  and  that  baggage  had 
been  taken  down-stairs  ;  but  only  two  bedroom  windows 
opened  to  the  front,  and  the  great  coach  was  driven  close 
to  the  piazza,  and  nobody  could  see  what  miserable  pas 
senger  got  in  with  her  disgrace.  Yet  everybody  thought 
she  knew,  and  everybody  was  dismayed. 

There  was  a  ring  at  the  door-bell  just  before  the  great 
house-bell  sounded  its  second  summons  at  seven  o'clock. 
It  was  hardly  noticed,  in  the  excitement  already  reigning, 
although  a  gentleman's  voice  was  heard  in  the  hall,  and 
the  reception-room  door  was  opened  and  closed,  and  then 
immediately  the  front  door  was  shut  again,  and  two  per 
sons,  though  nobody  looked  out  to  see  that,  walked  quickly 
away  together  down  the  drive  to  the  foot  of  the  park, 
where  a  light  carriage  waited.  It  was  scarcely  a  pleasant 
drive  that  Harry  Ackworth  and  his  sister  took  that  morn 
ing,  to  meet  the  Birksfield  stage  at  Longbridge. 

There  was  a  breathless  hush  as  one  after  another  came 
down  into  the  long  room  for  prayers.  All  but  three  or 
four  —  Nell  and  Cora  were  always  among  the  last  —  were 
seated,  when  Miss  Wilcroft  entered,  followed  gravely  and 
subduedly  by  Sally  Gibson  ! 

The  lady  principal  directed  the  young  girl  to  take  her 
usual  seat,  walked  to  her  own  at  the  head  of  the  room, 
turned  and  paused,  standing  there  till  every  eye  was 
fixed  upon  her. 

"  I  have  a  very  few  words  to  say  to  you  all  before  our 
morning  service.  The  young  lady  who  came  in  with  me 
is  now,  I  am  happy  to  tell  you,  in  entire  understanding 
with  myself.  There  will  be  no  explanation  of  the  mistake 
in  consequence  of  which  she  has  been,  not  without  fault 
on  her  own  part,  separated  from  you  for  these  last  two 
days.  She  will  take  her  place  among  you  now,  1  think, 
on  a  higher  footing  than  ever  before. 


298  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

"  It  is  only  through  some  faults  and  mistakes  that  most 
of  us  rise  to  our  best  and  final  character.  I  wish  you  to 
feel  that  she  is  in  no  disgrace.  Beyond  that,  there  is  no 
need  to  explain,  and  I  would  request  that  there  be  no  in 
quiry  or  discussion.  Two  others  of  your  number  have 
left  you  altogether  this  morning.  It  has  been  thought 
best  that  Miss  Cora  Ackworth  and  Miss  Ellen  Southern 
wood  should  return  to  their  homes." 

The  color  burned  higher  and  higher  in  Sally  Gibson's 
face,  which  she  tried  hard  to  keep  steadfast ;  the  lips 
quivered  a  little,  and  she  was  glad  when  the  reading  of 
the  Scripture  gave  her  time  to  calm  herself,  and  yet  more 
when  she  could  kneel  down  in  prayer  and  hide  both  head 
and  heart  away,  as  if  she  laid  her  face  in  the  lap  of  her 
mother. 

Louise  Summerway  was  the  first  to  come  and  speak 
after  breakfast,  in  her  gentle  way,  with  Sally.  She  did  it 
as  nobody  else  could  have  done  it,  —  without  seeming  as 
if  it  were  in  the  least  a  particular  thing  to  do.  She  asked 
some  question,  I  believe,  about  the  Virgil  lesson,  which 
only  came  on  Wednesdays  and  Saturdays  ;  and  then  they 
walked  over  to  the  Seminary  together. 

From  that  time  a  friendship  began  that  lasted  through 
the  three  years  that  they  remained  at  Oakhaven  school, 
where  the  saying  was  that  Louise  Summerway  and  Sally 
Gibson  went  together  like  mouse-color  and  scarlet ;  one 
just  set  off  the  other. 

"  Only,"  Sally  used  to  say,  "  you  must  have  a  good  deal 
of  the  mouse-color,  and  just  touch  it  up  a  little  here  and 
there  with  the  scarlet."  And  Madam  Sally  says  to-day 
that  "  spunk  was  n't  meant  to  keep  a  steady  light  with  ; 
you  must  have  a  quiet  little  candle-flame  for  that." 

I  said  at  the  beginning  that  this  all  happened  nearly 
fifty  years  ago.  But  I  know  it  is  all  true,  almost  even  to 


SALLY  GIBSON'S  SPUNK.  299 

the  very  words  ;  for  I  have  heard  it,  in  the  separate  hits, 
ever  so  many  times,  from  one  and  another  of  them,  to 
whom  it  has  been  all  their  lives  a  very  particular  beginning 
and  remembrance. 

I  am  Louise  Summerway's  youngest  daughter ;  and 
my  mother  and  I  have  made  long,  lovely  visits  many  a 
time  together,  at  the  old  Three  Hill  Farm  in  Rexford, 
where  Sally's  children  and  grandchildren,  friends  and 
friends'  children,  gather  by  the  houseful  in  the  summer 
holidays. 

Dr.  John  Archer  —  splendid  old  gentleman  that  he 
is  —  tells  the  Midsummer  Eve  part,  "pars  magna "  of 
which  he  says  he  was.  "  Of  course,"  puts  in  Madam 
Sally,  "  since  it  was  the  Eve  of  Saint  John  !  "  She  pre 
tends  it  for  fun,  but  she  means  it  just  as  honestly  as  she 
means  everything. 

Madam  Sally  herself,  being  coaxed  by  us  youngers, 
has  told  us  the  pranky  parts  ;  and  my  mother  has  filled 
up  with  what  "  Spunkie  "  would  never  think  of  telling  ; 
for,  from  "making  traditions"  for  the  wild  ones,  Sally 
Gibson  ended,  you  see,  by  making  a  real,  splendid  tradi 
tion  of  high  character,  that  was  told  for  a  memorial  of 
her  in  the  school,  and  was  an  influence  in  it  for  truth  and 
courage  and  generosity,  for  ever  after. 

And  dear,  beautiful  Miss  Wilcroft,  who  lived  to  be 
yond  eighty  in  a  world  of  love  and  friendship  that  she 
made  for  herself  in  hearts  and  homes  of  women  who 
had  been  girls  with  her  at  Oakhaven,  —  Miss  Wilcroft 
rounded  out  the  whole  with  what  her  own  oversight  and 
understanding  discerned  of  it  at  the  time,  and  watched  to 
its  fulfillment  after. 

There  was  a  great  deal  fulfilled,  indeed,  that  it  would 
take  a  very  big  book  to  tell  of,  from  the  working  of  the 
spell  which  Sally  tried  so  unsuspectingly  that  twenty- 


300  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

third  of  June.  If  it  did  not  unfold  all  at  once  the  his 
tory  of  a  coming  decade,  it  began  the  chronicle  and 
settled  the  relations  of  half  a  century  for  certain  human 
lives. 

Doctor  John  Archer  came  to  Rexford  when  he  had  got 
his  diploma,  and  took  an  opening  practice  there.  He  is 
the  beloved  physician  of  twenty  miles  of  country  round  ; 
and  —  did  n't  I  say  that  Madam  Sally  is  Doctor  John 
Archer's  wife  ?  Of  course  she  is  ;  and  has  been  for  forty 
years.  Forty  years  of  a  Midsummer  Night's  Dream,  I 
believe,  if  long,  sunshiny,  happy  days,  and  brief,  calm, 
comforted  nights,  and  warmth  and  sweetness,  and  every 
thing  bright  and  full  and  generous  and  strong,  can  make 
up  a  midsummer  dream  or  reality. 


HOW  BEL  CAUGHT  THE  "BURGLAR." 

IT  was  a  favorite  story ;  but  these  girls  had  never  heard 
it.  It  was  the  very  hour  and  mood,  also,  for  the  story. 

There  had  been  company  —  young  company  and  a  car 
pet  dance  —  and  it  was  twelve  o'clock  before  Bel  and  her 
three  staying  visitors  —  Esther,  and  Jeannie,  and  Fly 
(Fly's  name  was  Phyllis,  but  they  called  her  Fly,  it  was 
so  like  her)  —  were  all  in  Bel's  bedroom,  from  which  doors 
opened  each  way  into  her  own  special  young-guest  cham 
bers,  and,  too  excited  to  sleep,  were  all  eager  for  a  last 
bit  of  fun  or  wonder. 

"It  makes  me  think,"  said  Bel,  "of  my  Spanish  aunt, 
—  my  name-aunt,  —  Isabelita,  who  came  here  —  to  New 
York,  I  mean  —  to  school,  and  then  married  Uncle  Rod. 
She  caught  a  burglar  once  ;  and  it  was  right  after  a  party, 
like  this,  when  she  and  three  other  girls  were  together, 
talking  and  laughing,  exactly  as  we  are." 

Fly  slid  down  close  to  Bel's  side  on  the  sofa,  from  the 
arm  of  it  where  she  had  been  perching ;  Esther  drew  her 
hassock  nearer,  along  the  rug,  and  Jeannie  gave  a  quick 
look  at  the  Indian  screen  which  stood  across  the  open 
door  into  the  hall,  as  she  turned  round,  brush  in  hand, 
from  the  dressing-table.  "  Oh,  tell  us  !  "  they  all  cried  ; 
and  the  concerted  syllables  rung  girlish-clear,  and  were 
heard  in  the  "  boys'  room,"  where  Geoff  and  his  crony 
Jack  were  as  much  up  and  awake  as  Bel  and  her  friends. 

"  There  goes  the  immortal  burglar  story  again !  "  said 
Geoff  to  Jack.  "  It 's  Bel's  one  sensational,  and  she  keeps 


302  HOMESPUN  YARNS. 

it  wound  up  like  a  peg-top,  ready  for  a  spin  at  a  chance. 
She  turns  up  her  nose  awfully  at  a  dime  novel ;  but  I  'd 
like  as  many  dimes  as  times  she  's  got  off  that  yarn,  any 
how.  Never  heard  it  ?  That 's  a  wonder.  Come  along, 
then.  All  fair ;  take  care  of  yourself,  though,  when  she 
comes  to  the  wind-up ;  for  as  soon  as  they  get  through 
with  the  shudders,  they  '11  be  peeping  round  all  the  corners 
after  the  forty  thieves." 

Whereupon  the  two  youths  betook  themselves  noiselessly 
into  the  wide,  matted  hall,  established  themselves  on  a 
bamboo  settee,  and  infamously  listened. 

"  They  were  brushing  their  hair,"  said  Bel,  "  and  talk 
ing  over  the  party.  And  they  got  into  a  great  gale  about 
something  one  of  them  was  telling ;  and  Aunt  Lita  laughed 
and  laughed,  till  she  cried.  And  she  was  holding  her 
hands  on  her  sides,  and  saying,  '  Oh,  don't ! '  and  then 
screaming  with  laughter  again,  at  the  mimicking  that  was 
going  on  with  the  story,  when  all  of  a  sudden,  girls,  in 
the  very  middle  of  a  spasm,  she  happened  to  look  across 
the  room.  And  under  the  bed  —  just  under  the  edge  of 
the  valance,"  —  Bel  spoke  most  slowly  and  impressively,  — 
"she  saw,  as  plain  as  day,  the  heel  of  a  man's  boot!  " 

There  was  the  sound  of  a  sighing  and  a  soft  rustling 
together  in  the  girls'  room ;  out  on  the  bamboo  couch,  the 
two  boys  were  flinging  their  heels  up  in  carefully  hushed 
convulsions,  and  holding  their  doubled  fists  across  their 
mouths. 

"  What  did  she  do  ? "  Fly  buzzed,  tremblingly,  into 
Bel's  ear. 

"  She  just  kept  on  laughing,"  said  Bel,  with  a  proud 
calmness.  "  She  laughed,  and  laughed,  and  laughed  ;  and 
watched  the  boot  all  the  time.  Presently  she  saw  it  move. 
Just  a  hair's  breadth  ;  but  it  did  move.  Then  she  laughed 
harder.  The  other  girls  were  half  frightened  at  her,  not 
knowing  anything  else  to  be  frightened  at. 


HOW  BEL    CAUGHT    THE   "BURGLAR."     303 

"  '  Don't,  Lita  !  '  they  said.  '  You  '11  raise  the  neighbor 
hood.' 

"  '  I  don't  care  ;  I  mean  to,'  said  Aunt  Lita.  '  I  mean 
Sue  to  hear  us  over  the  way.'  And  she  went  to  the  win 
dow  and  threw  it  up,  and  stood  there  in  her  white  night 
gown,  in  the  bright  gaslight,  and  laughed  with  all  her 
might. 

"  She  laughed  till  a  policeman  came  and  stopped  oppo 
site  the  window,  and  looked  up  at  her.  Then  she  beckoned 
to  him  with  both  hands,  and  before  the  others  knew  what 
she  was  about,  she  flew  off  through  a  little  open  dressing- 
room  —  like  that  —  and  down-stairs,  and  let  him  in  at  the 
front  door  ;  and  she  got  him  up-stairs  just  in  time  to  catch 
the  fellow,  who  began  to  be  scared,  crawling  out  from 
under  the  bed,  and  the  other  girls  all  going  into  fits." 

"  That 's  the  cue,  Jack  !  "  whispered  Geoff.  "  '  Going 
into  fits.'  " 

And  the  two  just  waited  for  the  gasping  voices  to  begin 
with  their  horrified  and  wondering,  but  half-stifled  excla 
mations,  to  steal  off  as  they  had  come,  stocking-footed  and 
noiseless. 

"  I  will  say,"  Geoff  remarked,  when  they  were  safe  in 
the  end  bedroom  again,  and  continuing  their  preparations 
for  the  night,  "  that  she  does  n't  tell  it  word  for  word 
alike  any  two  times.  She  just  lives  it  out  again,  fresh, 
every  telling." 

"  I  believe,"  said  Jack,  "  she  'd  do  just  the  same  thing 
herself.  She  's  exactly  the  girl  to." 

"  Not  much,"  said  Geoff,  cavalierly.  "I  know  her  lots 
better.  She  's  my  sister  !  " 

"  Bel,"  Esther  was  saying,  leaning  close,  with  her  arms 
across  Bel's  lap,  "  what  would  you  do,  if  you  found  —  a 
burglar  —  hid  in  your  room  ?  " 

"I'd  —  hide  him!     Or  get  somebody  else  to,  as  Aunt 


304  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

Lita  did,"  said  Bel,  who  could  n't  resist  a  pun  when  it  flew 
right  in  her  face. 

"  Really  and  truly,  though,"  she  proceeded,  "  I  'd  catch 
him ;  and  I  Ve  thought  over  half  a  dozen  different  ways." 

"  You  'd  forget  them  all  if  you  saw  the  heel  of  his  boot," 
said  Fly.  "  I  should." 

"  I  don't  mean  to,"  said  Bel.  "  I  Ve  made  up  my  whole 
mind  to  catch  that  burglar  whenever  he  comes." 

"  How  do  you  know  "  —  began  Esther,  in  a  breathless 
kind  of  way,  glancing  round  from  corner  to  corner,  and 
from  piece  to  piece  of  the  pretty  furniture,  and  most  lin- 
geringly  at  the  screens  and  hangings,  —  "  how  do  you 
know  there  is  n't  —  this  minute  "  — 

"  I  've  a  way  of  looking,"  interrupted  Bel,  serenely ; 
"  and  I  've  looked.  That 's  part  of  the  plan." 

Jeannie  slid  softly  across  the  room  to  the  door  behind 
the  screen,  pushed  it  to,  and  bolted  it. 

"  I  was  sure  I  heard  something  move  in  the  hall,  a 
minute  or  two  ago,"  she  said. 

"And  you've  left  it  to  go  into  those  innocent  boys' 
room  ? "  demanded  Bel,  indignantly ;  and  she  walked  to 
the  door,  flung  it  open,  and  stood  listening. 

Those  innocent  boys  were  breathing  deep,  peaceful 
breaths  of  sleep,  and  there  was  only  the  faint  sound  of 
these,  and  no  stir  else  in  the  wide  house. 

Bel  turned  back,  satisfied.  "  There  's  nothing  at  all," 
she  said  to  Jeannie.  "  It  was  nerves,  that 's  all.  I  've 
had  'em.  They  're  preliminary  exercises.  I  've  got  pretty 
nearly  through  with  them." 

"  I  would  n't  talk  so  for  ah1  the  world,"  said  Fly.  "  It 's 
taking  fate  upon  yourself.  You  '11  have  to  catch  a  burg 
lar  some  time  ;  see  if  you  don't." 

"  And  see  if  I  don't,  then !  "  retorted  Bel.  "  I  do  feel 
as  if  I  were  being  led  up  to  it,"  she  declared,  with  a  grand 
simplicity. 


HOW  BEL   CAUGHT   THE  "BURGLAR."      305 

Fly  entreated  to  stay  here,  with  her,  to  sleep.  "  I  can 
never  go  alone  into  my  room,"  she  said, 

So  they  fastened  the  door  into  the  little  rose  chamber  ; 
and  Esther  and  Jeannie  left  theirs  very  wide  open  into 
the  double  blue  room. 

Three  days  afterwards  there  was  an  afternoon  party  at 
the  Eager  Place.  A  row  on  Opal  Pond,  gathering  water- 
lilies, —  tea  on  the  terrace  when  they  returned,  —  illumi 
nated  croquet  in  the  evening. 

The  boys  came  to  tea  and  croquet,  but  there  had  been 
a  boy-engagement  off  somewhere  else  in  the  afternoon. 
It  was  eleven  o'clock  when  Mr.  Derby's  carriage  took  all 
his  young  people  —  Bel  and  her  friends,  and  the  two  boys 
—  home ;  and  again  there  was  the  chatty  undressing,  and 
last  best  fun  of  going  over  the  whole  together  in  Bel's 
room. 

The  boys  had  been  pointedly  quiet  during  the  return 
drive ;  to  be  sure  they  had  to  sit  outside ;  and  they  said 
good-night  in  the  upper  hall  with  solemnity,  when  they 
had  carried  up  the  girls'  candles  and  wraps.  Geoffrey 
always  wondered  "  what  girls  wanted  to  talk  a  thing  to 
death  for,  over  again,  after  they  had  had  all  the  life  out 
of  it  while  it  was  going." 

Bel  was  as  nice  as  any  little  old  maid.  Fly  just  flirted 
off  her  fineries  anyhow.  Jeannie  and  Esther  laid  theirs 
in  tolerable  care  and  order,  but  they  got  no  further  than 
chairs  and  sofas  for  over-night  disposing.  Bel  stood  at 
least  five  minutes,  with  her  pretty  basque  and  overskirt 
upon  her  arm,  waiting  for  Fly  to  finish  a  ridiculous  story, 
that  was,  as  she  meant  them  to  know,  half  fact,  and  half 
quick-witted,  droll,  impromptu  fib. 

"  But  listen  ! "  Fly  cried,  as,  in  a  breath's  pause,  Bel 
made  a  restless  movement  to  the  door.  "  That  was 
merely  '  to  go  back  ; '  now  I  've  '  to  go  forward  ; '  '  to 
20 


306  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

conclude '  and  '  to  recapitulate '  don't  come  for  ever  so 
long!" 

"  Then,  really,"  said  Bel,  "  you  must  let  me  hang  these 
up  in  the  big  closet  first,  and  get  on  my  dressing-gown. 
I  can't  be  comfortable  "  — 

"  To  lay  a  thing  down  a  minute  !  "  said  Fly,  whose 
loosened  robings  were  fallen  in  a  bright,  gauzy  heap  about 
her,  and  whose  lap  was  full  of  lilies  from  her  hair,  tum 
bled  together  with  bracelets,  earrings,  fan  and  fan  chain, 
gloves  and  every  little  removable  that  she  had  divested 
herself  of  while  she  told  her  story. 

"  You  live  the  life  of  a  perfect  —  catamount  —  with 
yourself ;  —  always  pouncing  down  upon  every  little  acci 
dental  comfort  and  choking  it,  by  way  of  taking  it  after 
wards  '  in  peace  ! '  You  only  get  it  in  pieces  \  " 

"  She  's  '  Bel  and  the  Dragon,'  "  said  Esther,  not  really 
knowing  whether  that  was  Hebrew  or  Saxon  apocrypha, 
or  what  either  Bel  or  Dragon  were  or  did. 

"  If  the  Dragon  got  the  best  of  it,  she  is,"  said  Fly. 
"  But  I  don't  suppose  any  of  you  know." 

"  I  know  what  Bel's  Bub  did,"  whispered  Bel,  mis 
chievously,  dancing  softly  back  and  leaning  down  an  in 
stant  over  Fly's  low  seat.  "  He  lorded  it  over  the  Flies  !  " 

Now  Geoffrey  Derby  had  quite  monopolized  little  Phyl 
lis  with  his  sixteen-year-old  devotions ;  and  Fly,  on  her 
part,  had  no  voice  in  any  play  or  plan  that  did  not  second 
Geoff's  imperial  suggestions  ;  so  she  colored  red  under  the 
white  lilies  that  she  tossed  up  over  her  head  at  Bel,  and 
that  fell  back  upon  her  own  fair  tangles  of  hair,  and  hung 
in  them  about  face  and  neck.  And  in  the  minute  that  she 
had  no  other  answer  ready,  Bel  danced  off  again,  and 
was  in  the  hall  and  at  the  door  of  the  "  Big  Closet." 

The  Big  Closet  was  quite  at  the  far  end  of  the  hall,  too 
— -  that  is,  the  door  of  it  was.  The  closet  itself  ran  along  to 


HOW  BEL   CAUGHT   THE  "BURGLAR."      307 

a  dark  depth ;  a  great  roomy  "  press,"  where  nothing  was 
pressed,  but  where  all  the  nice,  light,  flounced  things  hung 
unrumpled ;  and  Bel  never  failed  to  put  her  delicate 
dresses  carefully  away  there  the  moment  she  had  taken 
them  off. 

The  gaslight,  half  turned  down,  was  midway  of  the 
hall ;  the  Big  Closet  door  opened  outward  and  from  the 
light,  so  that  this  shone  in  towards  the  left,  and  gave  Bel 
glimpse  enough  to  find  any  empty  peg,  and  to  see  that  she 
did  not  leave  one  thing  "  mussing  "  another. 

If  possible  burglars  were  ever  out  of  her  thought,  I  should 
say  that  for  that  moment  she  did  forget  them,  as  she 
threw  back  the  door  and  was  stepping  in  with  her  pretty 
muslins  on  her  arm.  Their  fun  had  not  been  in  the  burg 
lar  vein  to-night ;  all  was  cheery  and  everyday  —  if  that 
be  the  word  for  the  mood  and  chatter  of  an  hour  when  it 
was  nearly  next  day,  to  be  sure,  but  next  day  had  yet  to 
struggle  to  its  being  through  the  midnight. 

She  was  taken  as  unaware  as  her  u  whole  made  up 
mind  "  could  ever  be.  She  was  going  straight  in,  aiming 
for  a  peg  on  the  far  side,  when  the  light,  falling  in  over 
her  shoulder,  struck  upon  something  from  which  it  came 
back  to  her  startled  eyes  with  a  strange  kind  of  blow,  that 
she  almost  recognized  as  if  she  had  felt  it  before,  —  that 
now  it  came,  at  least,  she  knew  for  the  very  shock  she 
had  expected  !  It  was  as  if  one  had  dreamed  often  of 
being  struck  by  lightning  ;  and  then,  some  terrible  in 
stant,  the  flash  should  come,  and  in  the  very  enveloping 
of  it,  the  thought  —  quick  as  itself  —  should  flash,  too, 
"  This  is  it !  The  very  awful  thing  that  I  have  dreamed  !  " 

From  behind  and  between  the  ruffles  and  folds  of  her 
mother's  beautiful  crimson  silk  dress  and  a  heavy  black 
one,  which  hung  side  by  side,  projected  a  coarse  gray 
trouser-knee,  and  below  stood  two  big  feet. 


308  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

No  boots,  —  heels  or  tips  ;  something  more  fearfully 
significant  of  stealth  and  purpose ;  stockings,  with  villain 
ous-looking,  stumpy  ankles,  and  bulgy  insteps  and  clumpy, 
conspicuous,  dingy-white  toes ! 

She  felt  as  if  there  were  lead  in  her  own  feet ;  as  if  she 
could  never  move  or  get  away. 

Scream  ?  Of  course  not !  Fixed  in  her  mind  was  one 
principle  :  to  keep  on  —  if  she  saw  a  piece  of  hidden 
burglar  —  doing  just  what  she  had  been  doing  before. 
But  all  she  was  about  doing  now  was  to  hang  up  these 
muslin  things  ;  she  must  do  that,  and  then  she  must  just 
turn  round  quietly  and  walk  away.  Not  run,  although  she 
felt  those  two  feet  after  her  the  minute  she  turned  her 
back.  She  thought  she  had  been  staring  at  them  a  quarter 
of  an  hour,  and  that  she  had  plainly  been  seen  staring. 
Still,  she  did  turn  and  walk  out  of  the  closet.  She  shut 
the  door  gently.  There  was  a  lock,  but  the  key  was  gone. 
There  was  a  thin,  flat  button,  rather  high  up  ;  she  reached 
and  turned  it,  noiselessly,  in  the  instant  of  her  closing  of 
the  door.  She  went  back  to  her  own  room  where  the 
girls  were,  stepped  into  her  own  closet,  and  put  on  her 
flannel  wrapper.  She  felt  pale  and  would  not  let  them 
see  her  face.  She  took  a  little  porcelain  candlestick  from 
the  etagere  near  the  door,  went  out  to  the  hall  gaslight, 
and  lit  the  candle  there. 

"  What  in  the  world  are  you  doing,  Bel  ?  "  came  from 
Fly,  inside. 

"  Going  down  for  a  glass  of  water.  You  Ve  made  me 
so  thirsty,  laughing.  Want  some  ?  " 

"  Yes.     Are  n't  you  afraid  ?     I  '11  come,  too." 

"  No  ;  don't.  We  might  wake  mamma.  I  '11  bring  it. 
Would  you  like  some  cake,  or  an  orange,  or  anything  ?  " 

Her  thought,  all  the  time,  was  going  ahead  of  her, 
through  the  whole,  long,  shut-up  house. 


HOW  BEL   CAUGHT  THE  "BURGLAR."      309 

Geoffrey  and  Jack  ?  No ;  not  those  innocent  boys. 
They  would  n't  believe,  to  begin  with  ;  and  to  end  with, 
they  'd  get  shot,  maybe. 

Papa  ?  But  mamma,  with  her  neuralgia  and  her  poor 
nights,  would  be  waked  and  frightened  ;  and  papa  would 
just  rush  up,  barefooted  and  barehanded.  He  never  kept 
pistols  and  things  ;  and  he  would  n't  stop  to  think. 

Uncle  Prescott  —  if  he  were  only  in  his  room.  She 
must  go  and  see. 

Down  the  long  stairway,  through  the  hall ;  past  mam 
ma's  door,  with  her  hand  round  the  light ;  that  eerie  feel 
ing,  all  the  way  of  soundless  following,  and  of  ambushes 
everywhere.  Then  there  was  the  veranda  door  to  open, 
and  perhaps  let  a  whole  troop  of  them  in.  She  must  look 
out  there,  and  go  very  softly  ! 

She  went  into  the  dining-room  and  set  down  her  light ; 
came  and  peered  behind  the  fluted  muslin  screen  of  the 
sashed  door,  and  could  just  see  by  the  starlight  that  the 
veranda  was  clear,  and  no  motion  or  strange  shadow  on 
the  grass  slope  beyond.  At  the  other  end  of  the  veranda, 
in  the  wing,  a  door  opened  upon  young  Dr.  Prescott  Der 
by's  office,  and  the  stairway  to  his  room  above.  There 
was  the  usual  speaking-tube  from  doorside  to  bedside. 

"  Uncle  Prescott !     Uncle  Prescott !  " 

The  low,  hoarse  call  would  have  hardly  roused  any 
body  but  a  doctor,  used  to  "  sleeping  on  the  edge  of  his 
ear ;  "  but  Uncle  Prescott  heard  it  dreamily,  and  at  the 
third  call  was  wide  awake.  His  "  Hallo !  "  came  down 
the  tube  ;  then  Bel  called  : 

"  It 's  Bel.  Come  quick.  There  's  somebody  in  the 
house." 

"  Bel's  burglar  !  "  half  laughed  Uncle  Prescott  to  him 
self.  But  he  was  up  in  a  second ;  put  feet  and  arms  with 
simultaneous  movement  into  slippers  and  dressing-gown, 


310  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

took  something  from  the  table  at  his  bed  -  head,  came 
quickly  down  to  Bel,  and  followed  her,  as  she  turned 
without  a  word  and  sped  quickly  and  noiselessly  back  all 
the  way  that  she  had  come.  Arrived  in  the  upper  hall, 
Bel  pointed  to  the  big  closet  door. 

Dr.  Derby  opened  it,  and  Bel  pointed  to  the  feet. 

Dr.  Derby  pointed  his  pistol.  "  My  friend,"  he  said  in 
a  low,  quiet  voice,  "  show  me  an  empty  pair  of  hands,  and 
come  forward,  or  I  fire." 

Still  nothing  showed  but  the  feet,  and  the  gray  knee, 
that  never  stirred. 

Then  Dr.  Derby  said,  "  If  you  move  hand  or  foot,  you 
are  a  dead  man  ; "  and,  with  his  leveled  revolver,  walked 
into  the  closet. 

There  was  a  fearful  explosion. 

It  was  of  laughter,  —  overcharged  and  dangerously 
rammed  down,  —  and  it  came  from  the  room  of  those 
innocent  boys. 

And  —  "  Oh,  what  is  it  ?  What  is  it  ?  "  sounded  from 
Bel's  doorway,  where  three  frightened  faces  peered  round 
the  screen. 

Bel  ran  in  and  caught  them,  all  in  a  huddle,  by  arms 
and  shoulders,  pushed  them  before  her  into  the  room 
again,  and  half  sobbed,  half  chuckled  out,  in  a  queer, 
hysterical  fashion : 

"  It 's  my  Burglar  !  and  it 's  those  wretched,  unprin 
cipled  boys  !  "  and  with  that  she  just  broke  down  and 
cried. 

Dr.  Derby  and  his  pistol  meanwhile  presented  them 
selves  at  the  door  of  Geoff's  apartment. 

"  I  Ve  half  a  mind  to  shoot  you  !  "  he  said.  "  If  I  'd  a 
cane  here,  instead !  "  — 

"  Are  you  all  right,  Bel  dear  ?  "  he  inquired,  a  moment 
after,  leaving  the  boys  in  a  hush  of  mingled  and  sup- 


HOW  BEL   CAUGHT   THE  "BURGLAR."      311 

pressed  jubilance  and  consternation,  and  pausing  between 
Bel's  door  and  screen. 

Now  Dr.  Derby  had  scarcely  ever  been  known  to  say 
"  dear"  to  any  one  before. 

Bel  came  round  to  him  instantly. 

"  Oh,  you  're  so  good  !  "  she  cried,  still  with  a  nervous 
catch  in  her  voice,  and  with  wide,  wet,  shining,  excited 
eyes.  "  And  I  'm  so  sorry  to  have  disturbed  you  !  " 

"  You  're  a  heroine,"  said  Dr.  Derby.  "  Now  be  brave 
enough  to  calm  down  and  go  to  sleep."  And  he  stooped 
and  gently  kissed  her. 

"  To  think  if  you  had  fired  at  a  dummy,  and  riddled 
mamma's  red  silk  !  "  said  Geoffrey  at  the  breakfast-table 
next  morning,  when  all  was  well  over,  and  everybody  had 
slept  upon  it. 

"  And  to  think  that  Bel  has  n't  caught  her  burglar  yet, 
after  all !  "  said  Fly,  sympathizing  meanly  in  her  heart 
with  Geoff's  side  of  the  joke. 

"  I  think  she  has,  and  valiantly,"  remarked  Mr.  Derby. 

"  Walked  up  to  a  Quaker  gun !  "  said  Geoff,  growing 
bold  enough  for  satire,  now  that  nobody  was  shot. 

"  Walking  up  to  a  Quaker  gun  has  taken  the  position 
before  now,  young  man,"  said  Uncle  Prescott. 

"And  I  've  heard  of  a  certain  Christian,"  said  Mr. 
Derby,  "  who  was  as  brave  as  if  the  lion  had  not  been 
chained." 

"Well,  she  teas  brave  —  till  she  cried,"  acknowledged 
remorseless  Geoff. 

"  If  she  had  not  cried,  I  might  have  been  wanted  for 
something  apart  from  shooting,"  the  doctor  said,  quite 
gravely.  "  Do  you  know  what  you  put  her  nerves 
through?"  And  he  looked  sternly  into  Geoffrey's  face. 

"  Never   mind,    Uncle    Pres'  !  "    said    Bel,    her    heart 


312  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

warming  with  the  defense  of  her,  so  that  her  temper  kept 
perfectly  cool.  "  I  've  found  out  I  coidd,  if  it  had  been 
real.  And  that  was  the  thing  I  wanted  to  know.  I  don't 
care  for  the  glory.  I  think  I  'm  indebted  to  you,  Geof- 
frey." 

Bel  had  decidedly  the  best  of  it.  And  everybody  said 
so,  one  way  or  another,  except  Fly. 

Mamma  had  her  kissing  of  her  all  to  herself,  when  she 
got  her  for  a  minute  in  her  own  room  after  breakfast. 
And  she  said,  softly : 

"  If  my  darling  '  makes  up  her  whole  mind '  about 
catching  everything  that  has  no  business  upon  her  prem 
ises  as  she  did  about  the  burglar,  I  shall  have  no  fear  for 
the  peace  and  the  beauty  of  her  house." 


TRYING  ON  BONNETS. 

Miss  AXIE  sat  at  the  little  parlor  window  that  looked 
out  into  the  front  yard.  She  was  delicately  darning  a 
fine  cotton  stocking  over  a  stone  apple.  Every  morning, 
after  she  had  watered  her  plants,  she  sat  there  and  darned 
one  pair,  or  more,  if  Maggie  were  slow ;  and  Maggie 
usually  was  either  slow,  or  so  negligent  that  it  was  worse. 
Good  old-fashioned  Winifred  took  out  the  breakfast  things. 
She  would  not  let  her  mistress  wash  the  cups  except  on 
Mondays.  Mrs.  Keene,  Miss  Axie's  mother,  sat  by  the 
low  wood  fire,  and  knit  upon  a  long  stripe  of  a  resplendent 
afghan.  She  liked  the  touch  of  the  soft  wool,  as  it  slipped 
off  the  large  needles  ;  and  the  clear,  brilliant  colors  were 
easy  to  her  fading  vision,  and  it  was  restful  work  after  a 
long  life  busied  with  many  wearing  things.  She  always  had 
something  of  the  sort  to  do,  and  sat  placidly  in  her  arm 
chair,  the  bright  hues  heaped  about  her  upon  basket  and 
light-stand,  like  sunset  clouds  about  her  hour  of  calm. 
Above,  the  windows  were  wide  open,  taking  in  the  soften 
ing  air  of  early  spring  ;  and  Maggie  stood  among  blankets 
and  bolsters,  and  all  the  disarray  of  things  that  once  in 
every  twenty-four  hours  must  be  laid  in  fair  and  perfect 
order,  to  the  express  end  of  being  put  into  a  tumble  again. 

Miss  Axie  liked  this  half-hour  in  the  morning.  She 
thought  it  was  the  stocking,  and  the  filling  up  a  nick  of 
time  with  economy  and  usefulness  ;  but  I  think  it  was  as 
much  the  window  and  the  broad,  down-hill  street  that  led 
to  the  village,  just  in  the  edge  of  which  they  lived ;  and 


314  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

Mrs.  Mackie's  pretty  children  going  up  to  school;  and 
young  Howell  hastening  by  to  catch  the  train  to  town,  — 
so  grand  he  looked  in  the  fair  nobility  of  his  fresh  man 
hood,  whereon  a  holy  chrism  had  been  laid  by  the  awful 
hand  of  war ;  and  the  dreams  she  dreamt  about  them  all, 
—  dreams  that  grew  out  of  knowledge,  for  had  not  her 
life  for  forty  years,  here  in  Riverly,  among  their  fathers 
and  mothers,  included  theirs  ? 

Achsah  Keene  had  not  had  a  bright  life  of  hrr  own. 
She  had  been  the  eldest  of  five  children,  well  educated 
and  comfortably  brought  up ;  that  is,  they  had  always 
been  to  good  schools,  and  had  proper  gowns  and  coats  to 
wear,  and  they  belonged  to  "  nice  people,"  and  all  their 
ideas  were  well-bred  and  delicate.  But  around  their  life 
was  a  line  drawn,  —  a  line  of  limit  that  pressed  always 
just  where  these  very  ideas  longed  most  to  expand  them 
selves  ;  and,  next  to  father  and  mother,  the  eldest  had  felt 
it  most.  Who  knows  where  it  had  stopped  her,  beside 
where  she  was  conscious  ?  At  any  rate,  the  things  that 
had  come  to  her  had  been,  many  times,  what  she  could 
not  care  to  take  ;  and  those  she  would  have  reached  for  in 
gladness  had  stayed  themselves  beyond  her  grasp.  So  she 
was  only  an  old  maid  now,  living  with  her  mother ;  sisters 
and  brothers  married  and  settled,  or  gone  forth  into  the 
wide  world ;  the  father  only  a  thought  and  a  memory, 
now,  in  the  earthly  home,  for  fifteen  years. 

Everybody  said  it  was  bright  and  pleasant  here,  where 
the  two  ladies,  with  their  birds  and  flowers,  their  fancy 
work,  and  their  charity  work,  and  their  books,  and  their 
serving-women,  so  different  from  the  drift  and  float  that 
pervaded  neighboring  households,  —  old  Winifred,  who 
would  as  soon  think  of  moving,  and  no  sooner,  than  the 
hearth-stone  itself ;  and  young  Maggie,  who,  with  all  her 
heedlessness  and  exasperations,  was  loyal  at  heart,  and 


TRYING  ON  BONNETS.  315 

had  nowhere  else  on  earth  to  go,  —  where  these  two  dwelt 
so,  in  a  safe,  simple  plenty,  and  in  their  heart-comfort 
together. 

Yet  with  Miss  Axie  it  was,  after  all,  a  great  deal  — 
out  of  window. 

Miss  Axie  was  a  little  sharp  now  and  then.  Life  had 
demanded  a  good  deal  of  her  ;  and  she,  on  her  part,  some 
times  turned  round  and  demanded  a  good  deal  of  other 
human  nature,  that  was  but  human,  notwithstanding. 

"  Maggie  is  idling,  as  usual.  I  've  not  heard  the  broom 
yet.  It  is  really  marvelous  what  that  girl  does  manage 
to  do  with  her  mornings  !  "  Miss  Axie  dropped  the  stone 
apple  from  the  last  stocking,  —  rolled  them  neatly,  the  two 
pairs,  —  and  laid  them  back,  with  scissors,  cotton  ball, 
thimble,  and  apple,  in  her  basket.  Then  she  took  down 
into  her  lap  a  little  writing-desk,  and  penciled  a  note. 

*'  This  ought  to  go  at  once,"  she  said.  "  Mrs.  Ircutt 
will  be  longing  for  the  second  volume ;  and  it  is  such  a 
mean  selfishness  to  let  a  club-book  lie  till  the  last  minute, 
out  of  mere  laziness,  when  one  has  finished  it  one's  self. 
I  '11  send  Maggie  right  up  with  it,  whether  or  no !  "  Poor 
Maggie  !  "  Whether  or  no  !  " 

Miss  Axie  came  up-stairs.  Her  foot  fell  lightly,  always  ; 
and  Maggie  was  absorbed.  The  chamber-door  opened, 
like  a  flash  of  fate,  upon  her.  And  then  there  was  a 
tableau. 

Miss  Axie  stood  with  the  door-knob  in  her  hand. 
Along  the  sofa  and  upon  the  arm-chair  were  flung  blankets 
and  pillows ;  the  sheets  were  thrown  across  the  sill  of  the 
garden  window ;  on  the  floor  lay,  still,  the  shreds  of  yes 
terday  ;  and  inside  the  little  dressing-room  stood  her  bath, 
just  emptied,  but  the  pail  not  carried  away.  A  closet 
door,  half  opened  also,  showed  within  an  uncovered  band 
box  on  the  floor. 


316  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

Miss  Axie's  new  spring  bonnet  was  on  Maggie's  head. 
Shoes  down  at  heel,  —  Maggie  would  tread  them  so  in 
three  days'  time,  —  a  brown  calico  gown  that  had  seen  a 
week  or  more  of  morning  service,  and  had  got  a  rent 
within  an  hour  from  the  ear  of  a  water-pail,  —  bare,  red 
arms,  a  broad  face,  and  a  chunky  neck,  purple  now  with 
a  helpless  shame,  fright  and  consternation  in  her  eyes, 
turned  in  a  magnetic  transfixment  toward  Miss  Axie's 
own,  a  mouth  set  in  a  miserable  grin,  —  for  Maggie  always 
grinned  when  she  did  n't  know  what  else  to  do,  —  and  sur 
mounting  all,  above  the  rough  brown  hair,  the  offense  and 
retribution  of  the  bonnet ! 

Miss  Axie  was  angry,  and  no  wonder.  She  was  too 
angry,  for  a  moment,  to  exclaim.  She  looked  straight 
into  those  petrified  eyes  without  any  mercy ;  and  the 
purple  turned  to  white  about  the  lips,  and  the  grin  grew 
almost  ghastly. 

"I  hope  you  think  it  is  becoming,"  Miss  Axie  said 
quite  quietly.  "  Look  again,"  for  the  girl  stood  fronting 
her  large  dressing-glass.  Then  Maggie's  foot  began  to 
scrape  the  carpet,  awkwardly,  to  and  fro,  and  her  eyes 
fell,  and  the  lips  trembled  down  out  of  their  rigidity,  and 
there  was  only  the  shame  left  in  the  face. 

But  Miss  Axie  made  up  her  mind  in  the  moment  what 
to  do. 

"  I  want  these,"  she  said,  holding  out  the  book  and  note, 
"  carried  up  to  Mrs.  Ircutt's.  You  may  go  now,  just  as 
you  are." 

"  Oh,  Miss  Axie !  "  cried  the  girl,  driven  to  speech  in  her 
distress.  And  her  hands  went  up,  involuntarily,  to  remove 
the  bonnet,  and  fell  again,  not  daring  the  profane  touch 
before  Miss  Axie's  eyes. 

"  Just  as  you  are,"  repeated  her  mistress. 

Tears  rushed  up  to  Maggie's  face,  and  convulsed  it; 


TRYING  ON  BONNETS.  317 

but  she  could  n't  give  way,  and  let  them  fall.  Cry,  all 
over  Miss  Axie's  new  bonnet-strings,  and  rub  her  cheeks 
grimy  under  the  lace  and  flowers!  She  recollected  in 
time,  and  put  them  back  in  a  grotesque  agony.  She  was 
not  the  first,  nor  the  last.  Many  a  weeping  has  been 
judiciously  suspended  because  the  pocket-handkerchief  has 
been  forgotten  or  laid  astray.  Then  Miss  Axie  put  the 
book  and  note  down  upon  the  dressing-table,  and  turned 
and  left  the  room. 

"  A-ah,  what  am  I  to  do  then  ?  "  moaned  the  culprit  to 
herself.  "  She  's  the  one  that  '11  let  nothin'  off  when  she 
has  said  it.  An'  the  work  waitin',  an'  all !  An'  am  I  to 
go  by  the  street,  an'  all  the  people  lookin'  ?  An'  if  I  go 
by  the  back  —  there  's  Winny  !  An'  who  '11  be  comin'  to 
the  door,  I  wonder !  "  It  never  entered  her  simple  head 
to  refuse  her  punishment,  defy  her  mistress,  and  throw 
up  her  place.  The  drift  and  the  float  can  do  that,  but 
there  was  a  moral  force  upon  Maggie.  She  had  seen  hard 
lines  from  ten  years  old  to  fifteen.  She  had  been  here 
since  then,  and  she  knew  nowhere  else  to  go. 

She  went  and  listened  at  the  back  stairs.  She  heard 
Winny  go  into  the  breakfast-parlor  with  the  tray  of 
washed-up  dishes.  Now,  then,  it  must  be,  since  there 
was  no  help  for  it.  She  flew,  desperately,  down  the 
stairway,  and  through  the  kitchen,  out  into  the  garden, 
and  along  the  walk,  till  she  got  behind  the  currant  hedge. 
Then  there  was  a  wall  to  climb,  and  a  field  to  cross,  and 
another  wall,  and  then  to  go  up  through  Mrs.  Ircutt's  gar 
den.  Sorely  tempted  she  was  to  pull  off  the  bonnet, 
leave  it  somewhere  under  the  shrubbery,  and  run  on  bare 
headed.  But  the  dog  might  get  it.  Besides,  there  were 
the  overlooking  windows. 

If  only  John  Mullen  might  be  anywhere  but  in  the  gar 
den.  But  he  would  n't  have  wanted  her  to  face  the  street, 


318  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

and  he  'd  be  pitiful.  Only  it  was  almost  a  prayer  in  the 
poor  foolish  child's  heart  that  he  might  have  been  sent  off 
ten  miles,  rather. 

Miss  Axie  had  thought  of  the  back  way  in  the  midst  of 
her  resentment ;  else,  perhaps,  she  would  hardly  have 
given  such  a  sentence.  But  she  never  thought  of  John 
Mullen.  She  could  not  know  —  when  can  we  ever  ?  —  all 
the  force  of  what  she  did. 

But  John  Mullen  was  there,  turning  over  the  muck  be 
hind  the  lower  barn,  as  Maggie  came  crouching,  fearfully, 
round  the  corner  of  the  hedge.  She  would  have  run 
back  ;  but  he  had  seen  her,  and  dropped  his  fork.  She 
stood  much  as  she  had  stood  under  Miss  Axie's  terrible 
eye,  only  without  the  grin.  When  he  came  close,  and 
stopped  before  her,  she  had  to  battle  with  the  tears  again. 

"  Arrah,  Maggie  !  is  it  you  ?  "  cried  out  the  honest  fel 
low,  and  uttered  never  a  word  about  her  wonderful  array, 
seeing  her  trouble,  and  guessing  something  of  it  in  the 
midst  of  his  amaze. 

"  I  'm  a  big  fool,  jist,  —  lavin'  my  work  for  anny  non 
sense  ;  an'  I  'm  jist  come  up  with,  —  that 's  the  truth  of 
it,"  said  Maggie,  with  a  sudden  noble  bravery,  trusting  it 
all  to  him.  Hers  was  a  poor  and  homely  love,  maybe ; 
but  it  was  of  the  kind  that  casts  out  fear. 

"  She  told  me  to  go  as  I  was ;  an'  troth,  I  was  this 
way !  "  At  that,  the  absurdity  came  over  them,  and  they 
both  laughed  outright.  Then  Maggie's  trouble  was  as 
good  as  over.  It  was  better  that  she  had  met  John  Mul 
len  face  to  face. 

"It's  not  a  bad-lookin'  thing,  naythur,"  he  said;  "an' 
your  face  doan't  shame  it.  An'  if  iver  I  gits  me  rise  o' 
wages,  Maggie,  —  well,  well !  Give  me  the  billet  and  the 
parcel,  thin  ;  an'  shtick  the  billet  within.  An'  you  wait 
here,  jist,  till  I  'm  back  agin."  He  took  the  book  be- 


TRYING  ON  BONNETS.  319 

tween  thumb  and  finger,  charily,  and  away  he  went,  with 
his  big,  muddy  boots,  as  clumsy  as  ever  carried  a  true 
heart  along  above  them.  When  he  came  back,  his  hands 
were  clean  ;  and  he  brought  with  him  a  great,  red,  spotted 
silk  handkerchief,  his  own,  and  quite  clean,  likewise. 

"  Was  there  iver  a  word  about  wearin'  it  back  agin  ?  " 
he  asked  shrewdly.  And  with  that,  he  spread  the  hand 
kerchief  out  upon  the  fresh-springing  grass.  Maggie,  with 
a  lightened  heart,  took  off  her  head-gear,  and  laid  it  down 
carefully  upon  the  crown,  as  she  had  seen  her  mistress  do. 
Then  together  they  tied  up  the  corners  of  the  kerchief  in 
knots,  —  true  lovers'  knots  they  were,  verily ;  and,  with 
something  else  that  I  don't  feel  bound  to  tell  of,  they 
parted. 

"  I  ain't  bad,  John,"  said  the  girl.  "  It 's  only  that  I 
never  had  a  whole  play-time  in  my  life,  and  I  has  to  git  it 
by  grabs." 

Sunday  morning  came,  bright  and  balmy.  Miss  Axie 
had  smoothed  out  the  ribbons  of  her  bonnet  with  a  bit  of 
flannel  dampened  in  cologne-water,  had  dabbed  with  the 
same  at  the  oiled  tissue  crown-lining,  and  freshened  the 
flowers  and  lace  as  best  she  might.  They  were  comfort 
ably  well  off,  the  Keenes ;  but  she  could  not  afford  con 
temptuously  to  toss  aside  a  bonnet  she  had  just  paid  four 
teen  dollars  for,  and  cheap  at  that,  with  prices  running  all 
the  way  up  to  sixty.  Besides,  after  all,  it  was  not  much 
the  worse  for  its  adventures ;  and,  if  Maggie  had  only 
learned  a  good  lesson  —  Well,  Miss  Axie  went  to  church 
now  to  learn  her  own  lesson. 

The  Randalls  came  down  the  hill,  in  their  pretty,  light 
buggy, — young,  happy,  loving.  Miss  Axie  sighed,  pick 
ing  her  way  along  in  India-rubbers.  The  "  might  have 
been  "  was  whispering  again  at  her  heart,  yet  not  all  sadly, 


320  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

either  ;  for  she  could  catch  a  sympathetic  joy,  and  under 
her  forty  years  there  was  somewhere  the  heart  of  twenty, 
—  hiding  —  waiting. 

All  the  Mackies  came  in  together,  —  six  of  them,  father, 
mother,  the  three  handsome  boys,  and  the  little,  winsome 
girl.  And  Susan  Mackie  was  two  years  younger  than  she. 
She  was  glad  of  all  that,  too,  —  glad  that  it  could  be. 
She  was  like  a  child,  in  her  inmost  heart,  before  God,  — 
one  of  many,  waiting  for  her  share.  Not  this,  but  some 
thing.  He  has  plenty ;  and  everybody  gets  his  own  at 
last. 

The  sermon  was  dull.  The  soul  of  it  had  been  a  glow 
ing  thought  that  had  come  to  the  preacher  in  the  night 
time,  standing  beside  his  pillow,  as  the  angels  stood  of  old. 
But  he  had  had  to  elaborate  ;  for  a  man  must  preach  his 
five-and-twenty  minutes,  at  the  least.  That  had  thinned 
it  out,  and  almost  killed  it ;  and  then  came  "  solution  of 
continuity  "  between  him  and  his  hearers.  He  felt  that, 
and  it  killed  his  delivery.  For  the  first  three  minutes, 
the  angel  had  stood  beside  each  spirit.  Then  they  had 
got  the  whole ;  and  they  went  off  wandering,  every  one 
his  way. 

Miss  Axie  let  her  eyes  go  round  from  pew  to  pew,  from 
group  to  group.  It  was  the  Sunday  "  out  of  window." 
She  could  not  help  it.  Her  thought  thrust  itself  into  each 
life  there,  and  would  have  some  of  it,  for  these  moments 
at  least.  And  they  all  lived  for  her  in  part,  whether  they 
knew  it  or  not,  —  every  one  of  those  filled  and  answered 
and  well-nigh  satisfied  souls.  And  she  dreamed  her 
dreams,  lived  her  life  over,  and  fitted  it  with  that  which 
had  never  been  hers. 

But  she  came  to  her  present  self  with  a  start  by  and  by, 
when  the  sermon  seemed  to  break  off  suddenly,  and  had 
really  reached  its  slow  and  lingering  end,  —  dying  hard, 


TRYING  ON  BONNETS.  321 

as  people  do  sometimes,  though  they  have  nothing  left  to 
live  for. 

She  abased  herself  in  the  last  prayer,  blaming  herself 
before  God ;  yet  He  knew  she  could  not  help  it. 

She  went  home,  and  took  up  her  Bible  to  read,  in  the 
quietude  of  her  own  chamber,  —  just  where  she  had  con 
fronted  Maggie  yesterday.  Where  should  she  open  it 
but  at  the  parable  of  the  unforgiving  debtor  ?  And  it 
came  to  her  then  that  she  herself  had  gone  to  do  her 
Master  service,  in  his  house,  and  had  been  —  spiritually 
—  trying  on  bonnets  ! 

What  if  she  had  been  taken  to  task,  and  made  to  pay 
the  penalty  ?  What  if  her  thought  had  been  unmasked 
before  her  fellow-worshipers,  and  shown  there  in  all  its 
foolish  guise  ?  What  if  they  had  all  seen  her  there  — 
"just  as  she  was  "  ? 

She  had  hurt  no  one  ;  she  had  diminished  not,  by  the 
value  of  a  hair,  the  worth  of  that  which  she  had  borrowed 
from  her  fellows  ;  she  had  infringed  no  ever  so  trivial 
right.  But  the  work  that  she  had  gone  into  her  Master's 
house  to  do,  and  had  put  by !  The  wider  work,  perhaps, 
that  she  had  come  into  His  house  of  life  for,  and  had  cur 
tailed  and  defrauded  daily  somewhat,  through  her  dreams  ! 
In  their  lower  range,  what  were  her  little  handmaiden's 
temptations  but  the  types  of  hers  ? 

She  sat  awhile  with  her  Bible  in  her  hand.  Then  she 
got  up  and  rang  the  bell ;  and  Maggie  came,  ashamed 
and  grieved  and  downcast  still.  She  had  not  lifted  her 
eyes  to  her  mistress's  face  all  day.  Miss  Axie  went  and 
opened  a  green  box  on  her  bureau,  —  I  am  afraid  Mag 
gie  had  peeped  into  it  before  now,  when  she  should  have 
been  making  the  bed,  —  and  took  out  a  rose,  a  pink 
rose  with  green  leaves.  It  had  only  been  worn  on  a 
21 


322  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

cap.  It  was  quite  fresh  and  delicate.  You  might  almost 
smell  of  it. 

"  You  behaved  well,  Maggie,  yesterday,  after  your 
fault.  I  am  afraid  I  was  a  little  hard  upon  you.  Put 
this  in  your  own  bonnet,  to  wear  when  you  go  out  this 
afternoon.  And  don't  be  idle,  Maggie ;  though  we  all 
have  our  idle  ways,  at  times." 

The  tears  came  up  again  ;  and  she  had  no  fine  bonnet 
in  the  way  nowa  and  Maggie  clapped  her  hands  to  her 
eyes. 

"  I  ain't  bad,  Miss  Axie,"  she  repeated,  with  the  self 
same  plea  she  had  made  to  John  Mullen ;  and,  unknown 
to  her,  the  type  was  running  still,  all  through.  "  But  I 
never  had  a  whole  long  play -time  in  my  life,  an'  —  I  has 
to  git  it "  —  She  broke  down. 

But  the  love  that  leaned  over  them  both  knew  the  rest 
of  it,  and  the  appeal  of  neither  came  up  before  its  tender 
ness  in  vain. 

Maggie  went  down-stairs  with  a  glad  face  and  her  rose- 
blessing.  It  was  a  Sunday  gift  into  her  dull,  hard  life. 
It  was  a  great  deal  more  than  just  a  milliner's  flower  for 
a  straw  bonnet. 

Miss  Achsah  took  up  her  Bible  again.  She  felt  as  if 
she  would  like  somebody  to  give  her  a  rose ;  something 
that  would  make  her  as  simply  glad  ;  that  she  could  put 
into  what  she  had  to  wear  in  the  world  and  freshen  it  all 
up  with  some  summer  beauty. 

She  opened  to  the  Old  Testament :  the  leaves  parted 
at  the  beginning  of  the  book  of  Judges.  And  she  found 
her  own  name  there.  The  story  of  how  Achsah,  the 
daughter  of  Caleb,  went  to  her  father,  and  complained 
that  he  had  given  her  the  south  —  the  dry  —  land. 

"  Give  me  also  springs  of  water,"  she  said. 


TRYING  ON  BONNETS.  323 

"  Ah,  yes  ;  springs  of  water  !  "  sighed  Miss  Axie,  stop 
ping  at  the  line.  And  then  her  returning  glance  read  the 
rest  :  — 

"  I  will  give  thee  the  upper  springs  and  the  nether 
springs." 

Miss  Achsah  shut  the  Book  with  a  thanksgiving. 


ZERUB  THROOP'S  EXPERIMENT. 
I. 

HOW   ZERUB   LEFT   TT   ALL   TO   PROVIDENCE. 

ZERUB  THROOP  sat  in  his  spring-lock  sanctum.  It  was 
a  contrivance  of  his,  whereby  it  might  never  be  precisely 
known  whether  he  was  out  or  in  ;  also,  no  other  person, 
curious  or  dishonest,  could  invade  the  place  to  occupy  it 
even  for  a  moment,  except  with  door  carefully  set  wide. 
He  carried  the  key  in  his  pocket.  Once  swung  to,  the 
heavy  leaf  fastened  itself  instantly  ;  then  he  and  his  cigar 
and  his  black  cat  were  walled  up  together.  Zerub  always 
kept  a  black  cat.  He  had  had  six  generations  of  them, 
all  precisely  alike.  Where  the  type  varied,  the  kitten  was 
drowned. 

A  staircase  led  down  from  the  passage  without  to  the 
side  entrance  of  his  house.  People  on  errands,  or  with 
bills,  or  to  pay  money,  or  receive  orders,  came  here.  Zerub 
could  see  from  his  window  who  it  might  be. 

He  had  an  office  directly  below,  where  he  made  pay 
ments,  and  signed  receipts,  and  gave  such  other  audiences 
as  he  chose,  holding  thus  pretty  much  all  his  limited  in 
tercourse  with  his  kind.  Unless  he  owed  a  man,  or  a  man 
owed  him,  or  one  or  the  other  wanted  for  money,  money's 
worth  of  use,  property,  or  service,  what  should  there  be 
between  them  ?  Zerub  Throop  always  wanted  to  know 
that. 

He  had  a  little  dining-room  beyond  his  office.     His 


ZERUB    THROOP'S   EXPERIMENT.         325 

sleeping-room  was  within  his  sanctum.  What  if  he  should 
die  there  some  night  with  his  oak  sported  ? 

The  whole  front  of  his  large  old  house,  a  place  he  had 
taken  a  whim  to  buy  furnished  as  it  stood,  was  unused. 

He  had  his  head  out  at  his  window  at  this  moment  at 
which  we  take  him  up.  He  was  watching  a  woman  who 
had  come  to  the  door  below  with  something  to  sell.  She 
had  come  from  a  good  way  off,  peddling  her  wares,  or  she 
would  never  have  climbed  Tliroop  Hill. 

"  Tell  the  mistress  it  will  be  sure  to  make  the  hair 
grow,  if  it 's  gone  ever  so." 

"  It  is  n't  a  mistress,  it 's  a  master,"  said  the  servant 
Sarah,  from  within.  "  And  he  don't  buy  hair-grease ; 
and  he  won't  have  peddlers." 

"  It  is  n't  grease  ;  it 's  Phoanix  Regenerator.    It  '11 "  — 

"  It 's  no  use,  I  tell  you.  Not  if  it  would  save  souls. 
I  tell  you  he  don't  buy  things."  And  Sarah,  bethinking 
of  her  half-ironed  shirt-bosom,  and  her  cooling  flats,  shut 
the  door  summarily. 

Zerub  Throop  laughed.     The  woman  looked  up. 

"  My  hair  never  comes  out,  madam,  I  assure  you,"  said 
he  with  a  mocking  blandness,  and  a  half  bow  of  his 
thickly-covered,  close-trimmed,  grizzled  head.  "  I  'm  not 
in  the  habit  of  losing  things." 

"  You  might,  though,"  she  answered,  as  ready  as  he. 
"  You  might  begin ;  'and  it 's  things  that  never  went  be 
fore  that  goes  worst  if  they  once  sets  out.  When  it  once 
begins  to  drop,  you  '11 "  — 

"  Hammer  it  in,  ma'am !  and  rivet  it  on  the  other  side. 
Good-morning ;  "  and  Zerub  shut  his  window. 

"  Hammer  it  in !  I  guess  you  're  used  to  hammerin' 
in ;  feelins  and  Christian  charities  and  such.  Done  the 
undertakin'  business  pretty  much  all  along,  I  should  say. 
Well,  wait  till  you  're  hammered  in,  and  riveted  on  the 
other  side  !  " 


326  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

As  she  walked  out  of  the  upper  gate  upon  the  hill,  an 
other  woman  rang  the  bell  at  the  front  door.  The  sound 
pealed  through  the  house  startlingly. 

Hardly  once  in  a  year  did  any  one  ring  at  Zerub 
Throop's  front  door.  One  had  to  turn  aside  from  the 
graveled  drive  to  reach  it,  across  a  grass  plot.  Old  vines, 
little  trained  or  cared  for,  tangled  up  the  porch-way ;  but 
Mrs.  Whapshare  came  to  the  front  door.  She  had  been 
ten  years  making  up  her  mind  to  come  at  all,  —  ever  since 
her  husband  died,  and  left  her  poor.  Now  that  her  little 
children  were  growing  up,  she  had  a  hundred  needs  for 
them  that  pressed  her  sorer  than  the  needs  of  ten  years 
ago.  They  might  go  out  into  the  world  to  make  their 
way ;  but  she  wanted  life-tools  to  give  them  to  go  out 
with.  Training,  knowledge,  opportunity,  —  these  things, 
in  the  outset,  must  always  cost  somebody  something.  She 
could  not  give  them  bread  and  butter  now  and  send  them 
to  bed.  There  was  other  feeding  that  they  were  hungry 
for. 

Zerub  Throop  knew  Mrs.  Whapshare  by  sight,  as  he 
knew  nearly  every  man  and  woman  in  the  town ;  but  he 
had  never  spoken  to  her.  Why  should  he  ?  She  was  no 
tenant  of  his.  He  wanted  nothing  of  her  ;  she  could  buy 
nothing  of  him.  The  human  relation,  as  Zerub  under 
stood  it,  failed.  The  wires  were  down. 

Yet  Mrs.  Whapshare  came,  and  rung  at  his  front  door. 

"  There  is  a  lady,  sir,  in  the  northeast  room,  askin'  to 
speak  to  you,"  called  Sarah,  from  outside  the  oak,  not 
knocking,  for  she  knew  now  that  he  was  there. 

"  Why  did  n't  you  get  rid  of  her,  as  you  did  of  the 
Regenerator  ?  "  —  half  pleased,  half  surly,  at  her  manage 
ment  ;  first  good,  then  bad. 

"  She  is  n't  the  regeneratin'  sort.  She  ain't  got  bottles, 
nor  yet  books,  nor  yet  fortygraphs  of  President  Grant 


ZERUB   THR OOP'S  EXPERIMENT.         327 

and  Mr.  Bismarck  Brown.  There  ain't  nothin'  to  send  her 
off  on.  She  jest  wants  to  see  you.  I  can  tell  you  who 
't  is.  It 's  Mis'  Whapshare,  down  Ford  Street  way.  She 
stepped  in  as  if  she'd  made  up  her  mind ;  and  it 's  one  of 
the  little  ones  that  makes  up  with  a  twist." 

Sarah  Hand  was  almost  the  only  person  who  ever  made 
many  words  with  Zerub  Throop ;  but  her  words  suited 
and  amused  him,  and  she  knew  it.  It  was  with  a  sort  of 
crusty  good-humor  that  he  went  down  into  the  dim  and 
musty  northeast  parlor,  where  Sarah  had  folded  back  a 
single  shutter,  to  see  Mrs.  Whapshare. 

The  lady  rose  as  he  entered,  stirring  the  gloom  and 
must  of  the  corner  in  which  she  had  seated  herself,  and 
gathering  up,  as  it  were,  the  darkness  into  shape  with  the 
shadowy  movement  of  her  black  dress. 

Zerub  bowed. 

"  Mrs.  Whapshare,"  said  the  lady, —  "  Mrs.  Miles  Whap 
share." 

Zerub  sat  down,  and  waited  for  more. 

"  I  have  come  to  ask  you  something,  Mr.  Throop." 

"  Of  course,  madam.  They  all  do,"  answered  Mr. 
Throop  politely,  drawing  down  his  waistcoat,  and  leaning 
back  in  his  chair,  laying  his  right  foot  across  his  left  knee, 
and  folding  his  arms,  as  a  human  being  in  a  state  of  siege 
instinctively  barricading  himself. 

Mrs.  Whapshare  looked  at  him  quickly.  She  changed 
her  tone  and  approach.  She  was  not  a  timid  woman, 
though  she  had  been  ten  years  making  up  her  mind. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,  I  began  wrong.  I  mean,  I 
carne  to  tell  you  something." 

Mr.  Throop  bowed. 

"  You  owed  my  husband,  Miles  Whapshare,  fifteen 
thousand  dollars." 

"  Once  I  did,"  answered  Mr.  Throop. 


328  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

"  Don't  you  think  —  I  mean  /  do  think  —  you  owe  his 
children  something  now." 

"  In  this  country,  madam,  no  one  is  persecuted  for  opin 
ion's  sake.  You  have  a  perfect  right  to  think  so,  and  — 
to  continue  thinking  so." 

Mrs.  Whapshare  was  forced  back  to  her  questions. 
"  Don't  you  think  so,  Mr.  Throop  ?  " 

"  No,  madam.  I  am  quite  willing  to  answer  any  inquiry 
you  would  like  to  make.  I  do  not  think  so." 

Mrs.  Whapshare  had  to  put  it  interrogatively  again. 
Otherwise,  it  was  plain  the  conversation  was  to  drop,  and 
in  like  manner  would  perpetually  drop. 

"  Why,  sir  ?  " 

"  In  the  first  place,  madam,  three  and  twenty  years  ago 
Miles  Whapshare  had  n't  any  children.  Whatever  re 
sponsibilities  he  undertook  afterwards,  he  undertook  in  the 
face  of  his  business  loss.  He  began  the  world  again,  as  I 
did.  /  could  n't  afford  children,  ma'am.  In  the  second 
place,  I  paid  him,  as  I  did  everybody  else,  twenty-five 
cents  on  the  dollar,  and  was  discharged.  I  began  again, 
and  worked  up.  If  Miles  Whapshare  did  n't  work  up, 
that  is  simply  the  difference  between  us.  In  the  third 
place,  if  I  were  to  call  it  a  debt  now,  how  much  do  you 
think  the  debt  would  be  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.     I  don't  know  as  that  alters  it." 

"  I  '11  tell  you,  then.  Upon  fifteen  thousand  dollars  I 
paid  Miles  Whapshare  three  thousand  seven  hundred  and 
fifty,  leaving  eleven  thousand  two  hundred  and  fifty. 
That,  at  simple  interest,  would  by  this  time  just  about 
have  increased  by  one  and  a  half.  Do  you  think  I  owe 
Miles  Whapshare's  children  to-day  twenty-eight  thousand 
one  hundred  and  twenty-five  dollars  ?  It  is  either  that  or 
nothing." 

"I  think  it  is  likely  it  is  that,  then,"  replied  Mrs. 


ZERUB   THROOP  S  EXPERIMENT.         329 

Whapshare,  with  a  calm  indifference  to  the  figures.  But 
they  would  be  glad  of  a  very  small  proportion." 

"  Possibly.  Miles  Whapshare  was.  But  you  leave  the 
argument.  The  grandchildren  might  come  back  with 
their  claim,  by  and  by.  The  world  does  n't  go  trailing  on 
after  that  fashion.  When  things  are  squared  up,  they  are 
squared.  There  had  to  be  a  deluge,  once,  ma'am,  and 
the  race  began  again.  Pope  Gregory  had  to  strike  ten 
days  out  of  the  year  1582,  to  bring  the  world's  account 
down  to  what  the  sun  could  pay  :  and  I  believe  you  think 
your  sins  are  settled  for  on  much  the  same  principle,  don't 
you  ?  Bankruptcy  and  discharge  seem  to  be  taken  into 
the  original  plan  of  things.  At  any  rate,  that  is  what 
occurs,  and  there  is  an  accepted  order  for  it.  Is  this  all, 
madam  ?  and  is  your  mind  satisfied  ?  " 

And  Zerub  Throop  put  down  his  foot,  and  arose. 

The  woman's  figure  in  black  moved  again  also,  making 
that  shape  of  shadow  in  the  gloomy  sofa-corner.  A  voice 
that  trembled  now  came  out  of  the  shade. 

"  It  seemed  to  me  as  if  it  ought  to  have  been,  some 
how  ;  a  few  thousand  dollars  would  have  been  so  much  to 
us  all  this  time !  and  I  knew  you  owed  it  once.  You  are 
rich,  Mr.  Throop ;  and  you  have  nobody  to  keep  your 
money  for." 

"  I  can  leave  it  to  cats  and  dogs  if  I  like.  I  can  do  as 
I  please  with  my  own." 

"  You  may  think  you  can,"  said  the  widow,  speaking 
firmly  again ;  "  but  it  will  be  as  Providence  pleases,  after 
all.  Even  the  king's  heart  is  in  the  hand  of  the  Lord." 

"  Very  well !  try  Providence  ;  but  if  Providence  is  any 
thing  like  Zerub  Throop,  it  won't  do  to  begin  by  telling 
him  he  owes  you  an  old  debt  on  somebody's  else  account." 

"  You  know  about  that  Mrs.  Whapshare  ?  "  Mr.  Throop 


830  HOMESPUN  YARNS. 

said,  interrogatively,  to  Sarah  Hand,  when  she  was  bring 
ing  in  his  dinner,  —  a  roasted  duck  with  port-wine  sauce. 
"  She  's  a  pretty  comfortable  sort  of  person,  I  should 
think." 

"  Well,"  answered  Sarah,  "  folks  is  most  alwers  pretty 
comfortable,  ain't  they,  'xcept  the  regular  give-up  starva 
tion  ones  ?  You  see  'em  goin'  round  ;  and  they  has  shoes 
an'  stockins  on,  an'  gowns,  an'  bunnits,  or  coats  and  hats  ; 
an'  they  goes  in  somewheres  when  it  rains,  or  it  comes 
night ;  an'  they  git  breakfast,  an'  dinner,  an'  supper,  I 
s'pose,  or  else  they  would  n't  be  goin'  round.  You  don't 
see  'em  droppiu'  nowheres.  Of  course,  they  're  comfort 
able.  Everybody  gets  shook  down  into  some  sort  of  a 
place.  The  world  's  like  a  hoss-car  :  they  git  in  an'  they 
git  out ;  an'  they  've  been  took  along  between.  Some  sets 
down,  and  some  stands  up,  and  some  hangs  on  to  the 
straps.  Some  gits  into  a  place  at  the  beginning,  and  some 
slips  into  one  when  somebody  else  gits  out.  There  don't 
seem  to  be  no  rule  about  it ;  it  regilates  itself." 

"  But  Mrs.  Whapshare  ?  —  she  lives  in  a  good  house." 

"  They  can't  eat  shingles  and  timbers,  though.  'T  ain't 
like  little  King  Boggins." 

"  She  has  a  roof  over  her  head,  however,  and  it  is  her 
own.  She  has  several  children." 

"  More.     She  's  got  six." 

"  All  grown  up  ?  " 

"  Well,  the  everidge  of  'em  is.  Charlotte,  she  's  eleven. 
Miles  Whapshare  died  ten  years  ago,  and  did  n't  leave 
much  of  anything  but  the  old  house  and  the  garding  and 
the  six  children  and  a  mess  of  old  store-books  full  of 
bad  debts  and  tribulations." 

"  Been  to  school?  " 

"  Children  ?  Yes,  an'  meetin',  an'  Sunday-school,  right 
straight  along.  John,  he  's  got  a  place  in  a  store.  They  're 


ZERUB    THROOP' S  EXPERIMENT.         331 

nice  folks  enough.  Mis'  Whapshare  ain't  got  much  force 
to  her,  though." 

"  I  should  think  she  had  done  pretty  well  under  the 
circumstances." 

"  That 's  just  it.  She  's  a  woman  that 's  always  been 
under  a  lot  of  'em,  —  clear  down.  What  business  do 
folks  have  to  be  under  the  circumstances,  I  wonder  ?  Why 
don't  they  get  on  top  of  'em  ?  What  is  circumstances 
made  for?  " 

"  To  stand  round,  Sarah,"  said  Mr.  Throop,  in  italics. 
"  If  you  knew  Latin,  you  'd  see.  That 's  what  we  've 
got  to  do  with  'em.  Keep  'em  in  their  places.  Make  'em 
stand  round  !  " 

'•Or  git,"  said  Sarah,  sententiously. 

Mr.  Throop  laughed. 

"  Bring  me  a  lemon,"  he  said  ;  and  Sarah,  having  done 
that,  understood  that  the  conversation  was  at  an  end,  and 
withdrew,  like  a  circumstance,  into  the  kitchen. 

The  one  course  over,  Zerub  went,  as  was  his  custom,  up 
stairs  to  his  wine,  his  dessert,  and  his  cigar.  He  never  ate 
pastry.  A  little  fruit  was  set  upon  the  round  table  in  his 
sanctum,  also  a  basket  of  small  sweet  biscuits,  —  these 
more  especially  for  the  benefit  of  the  cat,  to  whom  he  fed 
them ;  beside  these,  a  bottle  with  cap  of  tinfoil  over  the 
cork,  his  cigar-holder,  tray,  and  match-box  In  this  com 
pany  Mr.  Throop  always  read  his  papers  after  dinner  for 
an  hour.  The  cat,  when  she  had  got  biscuits  enough,  dozed 
beside  him  on  a  soft,  square  sofa-cushion,  flung  down,  for 
her  use,  upon  the  floor.  Zerub  pulled  her  ears  once  in  a 
while,  and  woke  her  up  to  tell  her  the  news  and  what  he 
thought  about  it. 

"  She  knows,  and  she  don't  contradict,"  said  he.  To 
day,  he  did  not  read  long. 

'•  They  '11  get  into  a  nice  mess  in  Europe  ;   won't  they, 


332  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

Tophet  ?  They  've  got  to,  sooner  or  later  ;  that 's  what  I 
told  the  Whapshare  woman.  The  world  's  never  safe  from 
a  muddle  but  when  it 's  just  out  of  one  ;  and  if  you  can't 
be  safe  then  for  a  while,  what 's  the  use  of  the  muddle  ? 
Hey,  old  cat  ?  " 

Tophet  rose  lazily,  stretched  out  her  fore-legs  to  their 
farthest  possible  extent,  stretched  up  her  hind  ones,  lifting 
her  back  into  a  heap,  and  dropping  her  neck  into  a  hollow  ; 
then  gathered  herself  together  again,  with  raised  and 
vibrant  tail,  and  rubbed  and  coiled  herself  round  her 
master's  ankles. 

"  I  wonder  how  it  would  seem  to  do  it,  old  cat  ?  I  won 
der  what  she  would  think  herself,  if  I  really  did  ?  See  here 
now  ;  "  and  Mr.  Throop  drew  forth  his  great  wallet,  and 
therefrom  took  a  slip  of  white  paper,  such  as  he  kept 
ready  for  bills  and  receipts.  He  dipped  a  pen  into  an  ink 
stand  that  stood  upon  the  table,  and  wrote  four  lines. 

"  That  would  do  it." 

He  was  only  thinking  now,  not  soliloquizing.  Mr. 
Throop  never  did  that  foolish  thing ;  he  only  talked  out 
now  and  then,  in  scraps,  to  the  cat. 

He  sat  holding  that  which  he  had  from  a  queer  impulse 
written,  fancying  queer  what -if  s  about  it. 

"  That  would  do  it.  Give  that  woman  this  slip  of 
paper,  and  it  turns  her  life  right  over  for  her,  t'other  side 
up  again,  —  the  side  she  has  n't  seen  for  ten,  twenty  years, 
perhaps,  by  that  time,  no,  nor  ever  ;  and  it  alters  six  lives 
after  hers.  , 

"  I  don't  suppose  anybody  ever  wrote  exactly  such  a 
note  as  that ;  could  n't  be  discounted.  It  would  stand 
good,  though,  when  the  time  came.  Mrs.  Whapshare, 
two  things  are  between  you  and  this  slip  of  paper,  —  my 
will,  and  my  life.  I  can,  and  I  can  not.  There  comes  in 
free  agency,  and  all  the  rest  of  it.  It  is  certain  that  I 


ZERUB   THROOP'S  EXPERIMENT.        333 

either  shall  or  shall  not  turn  this  freak  into  fact.  Certain 
somewhere.  Where  ?  In  time,  or  Providence  ?  Provi 
dence  may  meddle  with  such  things ;  hut  I  never  came 
across  Providence  amongst  'em,  that 's  all.  I  've  had  my 
way  to  woi'k  up ;  and  I  've  heen  left  pretty  much  to  my 
self  ;  and  I  've  worked  it.  I  'm  left  to  myself  now.  Am 
I,  though  ?  How  do  I  know  ? 

"  See  here,  what  if  I  do  neither  ?  What  if  I  leave  it 
to  Providence  to  finish  it.  if  it  will  ?  " 

There  was  a  small  blank  in  one  of  the  four  lines. 
Zeruh  Throop  dipped  his  pen  again,  and  filled  the  space 
with  two  words.  He  turned  it  over,  and  indorsed  it  with 
a  date  and  a  sentence.  Then  he  laid  down  the  pen,  and 
sat  folding  and  rolling  the  paper  abstractedly  several  min 
utes  until  he  held  it  in  a  tight  round,  like  a  very  small 
Catherine-wheel,  between  his  finger  and  his  thumb. 

"  Would  it  ever  fire  off?  "  he  wondered. 

In  the  same  whimsical,  half  voluntary  way,  as  if  letting 
his  vagary,  that  he  might  stop  at  any  point,  run  on  with 
him,  he  tore  a  bit  of  tinfoil  from  the  sheath  that  had  cov 
ered  his  bottle,  and  rolled  it  again,  carefully  and  com 
pactly,  in  that.  He  folded  and  pressed  and  smoothed  the 
foil  around  it,  and  welded  it  into  a  silvery  ball. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  a  secret,  Tophet  ?  "  he  said  to  the 
cat.  "  That 's  a  secret.  That 's  the  sort  of  thing  it  is, 
when  you  take  it  out  of  your  mind  and  look  at  it." 

Then  he  sat  holding  it  again,  amusing  himself  so,  — 
playing  passively,  as  it  were,  with  fate  and  possibility,  — 
others'  fate  that  he  thought  he  held  ;  first  in  his  own  mind 
and  will,  —  now,  since  he  had  taken  it  out  and  looked  at 
it,  between  his  thumb  and  finger. 

But  what  was  he  to  do  next,  or  not  to  do,  seeing  he  had 
given  it  up  to  Providence  ?  Providence  would  neither 
put  it  by,  out  of  his  thumb  and  finger,  nor  throw  it  away. 


334  HOMESPUN  YARNS. 

"  I  won't  destroy  the  thing,"  he  said.  "  I  '11  go  as  far 
as  that,  and  then  it  is  out  of  my  hands.  I  '11  leave  it 
loose  on  creation.  Things  have  to  go  somewhere.  What 
difference  will  it  make  to  me  ?  " 

He  laid  it  out  of  his  fingers  on  the  table,  —  anywhere, 
as  it  happened  to  fall. 

"  That 's  all  between  you  and  me,  Tophet,"  he  said. 

"  Ni — ai — o  !  "  answered  the  cat. 

"  And  —  the  post,  Tophet ;  you  and  me  and  the  post. 
What  do  people  mean  by  the  post  ?  " 

Then  he  took  his  hat  and  cane,  and  went  off  for  his 
afternoon  walk. 

Zerub  Throop  was  not  an  ill-souled  man  ;  he  was  only 
a  strange,  solitary  one,  —  grown  selfish  and  one-viewed 
through  solitariness,  and  through  having  "  worked  his  way 
up." 

Sarah  Hand  came  up-stairs,  found  the  door  hooked  back 
that  she  might  enter,  carried  off  the  empty  bottle,  the 
fruit-basket,  and  the  torn  bit  of  tinfoil  that  was  evidently 
rubbish,  beside  it.  She  picked  up  the  round  bright  ball, 
looked  at  it,  turned  it  over,  saw  that  it  was  folded,  not 
crumpled,  and  laid  it  into  the  little  grooved  lid  at  the  top 
of  Mr.  Throop's  writing-desk,  to  keep  company  with  an 
old  knife,  a  bit  of  sealing-wax,  some  used  pens,  and  a 
piece  of  India-rubber.  Sarah  Hand  never  "  cleared  up  " 
anything  that  could  by  any  possibility  ever  be  called  for 
or  thought  of  again.  There  were  old  bits  of  paper,  scrib 
bled  with  temporary  calculations,  tucked  between  the 
leaves  of  his  blotting-book,  thrust  into  his  match-box,  and 
clasped  among  the  notes  and  scraps  in  his  little  gilt  finger- 
clip,  that  had  been  dusted  over  and  replaced  for  month 
after  month,  even  year  after  year. 

So,  when  Zerub  came  home,  there  the  secret  lay,  taken 
care  of  by  Providence  and  Sarah  Hand.  There  it  con- 


ZERUB   THROOP'S  EXPERIMENT.        335 

tinned  to  lie  for  several  weeks  ;  till,  one  day,  when  he 
lifted  the  grooved  lid  to  find  something  that  was  under 
neath,  the  silvery  ball  rolled  out  at  the  end,  and  upon  the 
table,  and  down  to  the  floor. 

Zerub  looked  at  it.  "  It 's  out  of  my  keeping,"  said  he  ; 
"  I  've  nothing  to  do  with  it."  And  he  let  it  lie. 

Sarah  Hand  picked  it  up  when  she  swept  next  day,  and 
dropped  it  into  the  bronze  match-box,  where  it  fell  to  .the 
bottom,  among  some  stray  tacks  and  screws  and  buttons 
that  were  safe  there  from  being  lost  or  wasted,  and  also 
from  ever  being  drafted  to  any  earthly  use. 

Zerub  did  not  ask  for  it,  or  look  for  it.  It  had  fairly 
got  beyond  his  knowledge  now,  as  when  one  willfully  loses 
count  of  some  sound  or  motion  one  has  pained  one's  self 
involuntarily  in  following,  and  is  thankful  to  let  go.  One 
night,  months  after,  he  upset  his  match-box  in  the  dark. 
The  dust  that  fell  from  it  got  brushed  up  in  the  morning, 
the  tacks  and  screws  and  buttons  put  back  again,  and  no 
body,  of  course,  thought  of  or  recollected  anything  more ; 
until,  that  same  afternoon,  sitting  with  his  wine  and  his 
paper  and  his  cigar,  Zerub  saw  the  cat  claw  something 
from  under  the  edge  of  the  low,  broad  base  of  his  round 
table,  give  it  a  pat,  to  try  if  it  had  life  and  fun  in  it,  and 
send  it  shining  across  the  floor. 

"  Why,  that 's  "  —  said  Zerub  ;  but  before  he  came  to 
the  exclamation-point  at  the  end  of  his  sentence,  Tophet 
was  after  it  again  ;  and  a  second  buffet  drove  it  straight 
before  his  eyes  to  the  one  possible  spot  where  it  could  get 
lost  out  °f  that  room,  —  down  the  open  lips  of  the  old- 
fashioned,  brass-valved  register. 

"That's  all!"  said  Zerub,  with  a  deliberate  period. 
"Nothing  is  lost  while  you  know  where  it  is.  But  it's 
none  of  our  business;  is  it,  black  cat?  " 

They  two  knew ;  and  they  never  told. 


336  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

Afterwards,  Zerub  Throop  lived  on  for  the  space  of 
two  years  and  five  months,  and  gathered  to  himself  his 
interests  and  his  dividends,  and  smoked  his  cigar  daily 
after  his  dinner ;  but  he  never  spoke  again  with  Miles 
Whapshare's  widow,  or  put  her  name  again  to  any  paper 
that  he  wrote  or  caused  to  be  written  ;  and  at  the  end  of 
this  time,  suddenly,  and  in  the  midst  of  his  strength,  he 
turned  away  from  all  these  things,  as  if  he  had  never 
striven  for  or  possessed  them,  and  went,  as  we  all  go,  to 
"  work  his  way  "  up  farther. 


II. 

HOW   IT   WAS   WITH   THE   WHAPSHARES. 

Mrs.  Whapshare  went  out  through  the  tangled  porch, 
and  heard  Mr.  Throop  draw  the  rusty  bolt  behind  her. 
There  was  an  odd  blank  in  her  mind  as  she  walked  down 
the  hill  into  the  town  again,  as  if  she  had  taken  some 
hope  up  there  with  her  that  she  had  been  long  used  to, 
and  had  buried  it,  and  was  coming  back  into  her  life 
alone,  without  it. 

It  had  been,  all  these  ten  years,  a  kind  of  vague  assur 
ance  to  her  to  see  Zerub  Throop  go  by,  up  and  down  the 
street,  and  to  think  to  herself,  "  That  man  failed,  and  owed 
my  husband  eleven  thousand  dollars  that  he  could  not  pay. 
He  has  got  it  now,  and  plenty  more ;  I  've  a  great  will  to 
go,  some  day,  and  remind  him  of  it." 

It  helped  her,  —  this  undefined  hope  and  half -intent,  — 
almost  unconsciously,  through  many  a  hard  pinch.  She 
had  a  nut  that  she  might  yet  crack,  as  they  do  in  fairy 
tales,  when  they  get  to  the  worst ;  and  who  knew  what 
might  come  of  it  ?  Anything,  everything,  might ;  and,  so 
long  as  there  is  a  "  might "  in  one's  life,  one  can  go  on  ; 
it  is  a  reserve  in  the  army  of  one's  forces. 


ZERUB    THROOP'S  EXPERIMENT.        337 

This  morning  she  had  gone  and  cracked  her  nut ;  and 
there  had  come  out  of  it  black  ashes. 

She  looked  so  tired  when  she  came  in,  that  Martha,  her 
daughter,  did  not  tell  her  that  the  soup  was  burned  ;  but 
she  smelled  it,  coining  in  out  of  the  fresh  air.  Burnt 
peas  are  pungent. 

"  There  's  our  dinner  gone  !  "  said  she. 

"  No,"  spoke  out  Caroline  from  the  kitchen ;  and  she 
opened,  with  a  gay  clatter,  the  oven-door.  "  Smell  my 
potato  puff ;  and  we  've  an  omelet  just  ready  ;  and  you  're 
to  have  a  cup  of  tea,  with  a  tablespoonful  of  cream  that 
I  got  off  the  bowl  for  you  this  morning." 

That  was  Caroline  Whapshare's  way  with  things.  Mar 
tha  took  them  harder. 

"  I  think  the  soup  is  always  burned  for  us,"  she  would 
say.  "  There  's  a  wrong  somewhere,  that  things  should 
be  so." 

She  was  like  the  Jews,  who  asked,  "  Who  hath  sinned, 
this  man  or  his  parents  ?  " 

Caroline  had  the  Christ-answer  ready. 

"  Not  so  much  a  wrong,  maybe,  as  something  to  be  set 
gloriously  right.  How  good  it  will  be  when  the  sun 
breaks  out  in  the  west,  Mattie !  " 

"  Yes,  away  down  ;  just  a  strip  for  the  last  minutes 
under  the  clouds,  when  the  day  is  all  gone." 

"  Even  then,  it  is  not  as  if  there  were  not  another 
coming." 

"  That  does  not  help  the  Johnnie  feeling." 

Now,  when  John  Whapshare  had  been  a  little  boy,  he 
had  given  the  household  this  compound  substantive  and  a 
proverb.  They  were  trying  to  comfort  him  for  a  child 
ish  disappointment,  by  telling  him  of  the  good  time  he 
was  to  have  next  week,  at  Thanksgiving.  "  Ye-e-s,"  he 
persisted,  sobbing  with  undiniinished  vigor ;  "  but  what 
kind  of  a  time  be  I  a-havin'  now  ?  " 


338  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

Martha  thought  the  family  had  been  brought  up  on  the 
Johnnie  feeling. 

"  Mother  has  lost  something,"  she  said  to  Caroline, 
over  the  dinner  dishes,  that  day.  "  She  looks  as  if  she 
had  had  something  put  away,  and  had  gone  to  get  it,  and 
it  was  not  there." 

"  What  queer  ideas  you  have,  Mattie  !  " 

"  Maybe.  I  feel  all  sharpened  up,  as  if  I  knew  things 
through  the  ends  of  my  fingers.  Queer  ideas  come  of 
queer  living.  What  are  we  going  to  do  with  that  old 
straw  matting  for  winter?  " 

"  It  was  rather  a  pity  in  the  beginning.  Children  do 
scrape  their  chairs  so  !  " 

"  Well,  it 's  the  end  now ;  and  it  has  only  lasted  a  year. 
It  is  terribly  expensive  to  be  poor,  Car.  If  we  had  had 
a  good  ingrain  for  half  as  much  again,  it  would  have 
lasted  six  years." 

"  I  '11  tell  you  what  I  have  thought  of,"  said  Car. 
"  That  northeast  parlor,  —  we  cannot  do  much  with  it  in 
cold  weather.  What  is  the  use  of  having  a  best  room 
when  you  cannot  have  an  every-day  one  ?  We  are  right 
on  the  corner  of  the  street ;  we  might  let  it  for  fifty  or 
sixty  dollars  a  year ;  and  then  there  would  be  the  carpet 
and  all  the  things  to  spare.  We  could  fill  up  with  them 
splendidly  for  ever  so  long." 

"  That  very  best  Brussels  carpet  ?  " 

"  Well,  yes  ;  twenty-two  years  old,  is  it  not  ?  Older 
than  either  you  or  I,  Mattie  ;  which  is  all  the  reason  we 
venerate  it  so.  It  was  the  best  when  we  were  born  ;  and 
we  were  never  allowed  to  have  any  crumbs  over  it.  It  is 
not  handsome." 

"  But  let  a  room  ?     Who  to,  or  what  for  ?  " 

"  To  some  comfortable  old  maid  ;  or  for  an  office,  or  a 
shop,  or  anything.  Why  should  we  care  ?  I  believe  I 
shall  put  it  into  mother's  head." 


ZERUB   THROOP'S  EXPERIMENT.         339 

"  How  we  should  miss  it  in  summer  !  —  our  only  cool, 
shady  place  !  " 

"  It  is  a  good  thing  to  let  things  go  when  you  do  not 
miss  them.  Then,  when  the  missing  time  comes  round, 
you  rub  along  somehow.  That 's  the  way,  too,  for  poor 
folks  to  give.  I  've  something  else  to  propound,  Mattie, 
some  time  ;  and  I  don't  know  whether  to  do  it  all  in  a 
heap,  or  to  wait  another  year.  For  it  must  be  a  winter- 
strained  notion  too." 

"  I  think  when  you  are  pretty  well  thumped  already  is 
the  time  to  take  another.  You  might  as  well  keep  on 
hammering." 

"  We  might  —  sell  —  our  —  garden  —  for  fifteen  hun 
dred  dollars,  Martha  Whapshare  !  " 

The  first  few  words  came  slow  and  hard,  trying  their 
way  as  they  came,  Caroline's  eye  fixed  closely  upon  Mar 
tha's  face.  The  last  all  ran  together  in  a  great  hurry  and 
triumph. 

"We  might  —  all  get  into  our  —  caskets!"  answered 
Martha,  with  a  sepulchral  indignation.  "  You  would 
leave  us  just  about  room  enough." 

"  Lydia  ought  to  have  those  organ  lessons  that  she 
wants  so  much,  and  an  organ  to  practise  on.  It  would 
be  a  profession  for  her." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  " 

Caroline  opened  her  eyes  at  her  sister.  "  Why,  of 
course  it  would.  Are  they  not  building  new  churches 
everywhere,  all  the  time  ?  and  are  not  all  the  women 
taking  to  preaching,  which  will  leave  a  capital  chance  for 
anybody  that  is  willing  just  to  glorify  at  the  other  end, 
without  being  seen  of  men  ?  " 

"  Pshaw  !  I  don't  mean  that.  How  do  you  know  about 
the  garden  ?  " 

"  I  asked  Rufus  Abell.  He  knows.  I  would  n't  go  at 
mother,  and  stir  her  up  for  nothing,  you  see." 


340  HOMESPUtf  YARNS. 

Martha  rubbed  the  cover  of  a  potato-dish  silently  for  a 
full  minute,  looking  at  nothing,  with  that  "  setness  "  in 
her  features,  —  her  eyelids  fixed  at  half-mast,  neither  lift 
ing  nor  falling,  a  white  pinch  in  the  end  of  her  nose,  and 
the  corners  of  her  mouth  crowded  down  with  the  close 
shutting  of  her  small  jaws,  —  as  if  her  indignation  at  life 
were  held  in  somewhere  behind  her  face,  as  a  smoker 
takes  in  and  holds  tobacco  smoke. 

"  She  held  her  breath,  and  the  mad  went  out  at  her 
ears,"  she  said  once  of  herself  when  she  was  a  child. 

"  I  think  it  is  a  very  prettily  managed  world,"  she  re 
marked  quietly,  when  she  had  put  the  dish-cover  down 
and  shaken  out  the  towel.  "  All  Oregon  and  Alaska 
empty  at  one  end,  and  people  crowded  out  of  their  door- 
yards  at  the  other.  I  'm  going  to  talk  to  mother  about  it." 

While  "  the  mad  went  out  at  her  ears,"  Martha's 
mind  was  always  calmly  made  up  to  the  inevitable.  Her 
mother  had  lost  some  might,  could,  would,  or  should,  to 
day  ;  she  had  seen  that ;  she  might  as  well  piece  out  the 
conditionals  for  her.  Martha  Whapshare  said  her  mother 
lived  in  the  conditional  mood. 

Caroline  knew  how  it  would  be  beforehand ;  it  was 
the  regular  circumlocution  of  things  in  the  family.  She 
had  the  ideas.  Martha  growled  at  and  presented  them  ; 
Mrs.  Whapshare  laid  them  up  among  the  mights,  coulds, 
woulds,  shoulds  ;  now  and  then  one  was  drawn  out  in  an 
emergency,  and  acted  upon. 

Rufus  Abell  came,  and  measured  the  garden-piece. 
Rufus  Abell  was  surveyor,  real-estate  agent,  broker,  law 
yer,  executor,  what-not,  to  half  the  people,  living  or  dead, 
who  had,  or  had  had,  interests  in  Rintheroote. 

There  were  thirty-two  hundred  square  feet :  "  it  would 
sell,"  he  said,  "  for  fifty  cents  a  foot ;  that  would  be  six 
teen  hundred  dollars."  Mrs.  Whapshare  went  to  bed 


ZERUB    THRO  OP'S  EXPERIMENT.         341 

with  sixteen  hundred  dollars  in  her  pocket  of  possibilities. 
On  the  strength  of  that,  they  had  sirloin  steak  for  dinner 
the  next  day.  That  did  all  the  family  good  ;  in  regular 
turn,  it  would  have  heen  salt  fish,  —  "  one  of  the  make- 
believe  days,"  Martha  called  it ;  when  the  dinner  was  got 
over,  and  no  one  dined.  They  made  believe,  at  regular 
intervals,  with  salt  cod,  baked  beans,  pea-soup,  and  liver. 
That  left  three  days  in  the  week  for  something  real,  — 
two  at  first-hand,  and  one  warmed  up. 

Mr.  Abell  also  put  a  notice  up  at  the  post-office,  and 
into  the  village  paper,  of  a  desirable  corner-room  to  let  in 
a  dwelling-house,  in  a  central  locality,  suitable  for  a  single 
lady  or  a  professional  man  ;  apply  to  him. 

A  great  many  people  applied,  —  two  washer-women  ;  a 
horse-car  conductor  with  a  wife  and  seven  children ;  an 
intelligence-office  keeper  ;  the  teacher  of  a  boys'  private 
school.  At  last  a  young  doctor,  newly  come  to  the  neigh 
borhood,  Arthur  Plaice,  got  it ;  paid  twenty  dollars  in 
advance  for  the  first  quarter,  twelve  of  which  Caroline 
Whapshare  took  to  the  city  the  next  day,  and  paid,  also 
in  advance,  for  the  same  length  of  time,  for  a  Mason  and 
Ilamlin  organ.  This  came  out  on  the  same  express-wagon 
that  brought  Dr.  Plaice's  desk  and  arm-chair  and  book 
shelves. 

They  got  acquainted  with  their  tenant  over  the  unload 
ing  and  bringing  in.  The  ladies  Whapshare  had  been 
rather  shy  of  him  before. 

He  helped  the  expressman  bring  in  the  great  box  into 
their  sitting-room  ;  then  he  stayed,  and  unscrewed  it  for 
them,  and  drew  the  instrument  safely  out,  according  to 
directions  ;  then,  when  they  opened  it,  and  wondered  how 
it  would  sound,  and  what  Lydia  would  say  when  she  came 
home,  he  put  a  chair  before  it,  and  seated  himself,  opened 
the  stops,  and  touched  the  keys  with  a  few  beautiful  glad 


342  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

chords,  and  played  what  Caroline  always  called  afterward, 
the  "  Which  being  interpreted."  It  had  in  it  struggles 
and  changes,  and  snatches  of  comfort,  and  little  climbing- 
up-hill  notes,  and  sure  high  ones,  and  droppings  and  sob 
bings  down  again  ;  yes,  and  "  the  very  little  pinches  too, 
that  nobody  noticed  but  the  pinched  people ;  "  and  it  had 
the  great  reach  and  longing ;  and,  at  last,  a  grasp  and  a 
joy,  and  a  gentle  flood  of  bright  content,  that  filled  the 
room  and  all  their  hearts  as  they  listened,  just  as  the  sunset 
and  the  home  pleasantness  filled  it,  and  glorified  its  new 
aspect ;  with  the  best  things  brought  in  for  every  day,  and 
the  "  real  Brussels,"  faded  though  it  might  be,  on  the  floor, 
and  the  organ  standing  in  the  shady  corner. 

The  old  maid,  Miss  Suprema  Sharpe,  lived  right  opposite, 
and  could  see,  over  her  blinds,  all  that  occurred.  What 
she  did  not  see,  she  heard ;  and  what  she  did  not  hear, 
she  imagined ;  and  what  she  saw,  heard,  or  imagined,  of 
a  morning,  for  example,  she  ran  up  street,  of  an  afternoon, 
and  told  to  her  friend,  Mrs.  Benny  Dutell,  while  it  was 
warm  ;  just  as  she  might  carry  ginger-cakes. 

She  was  not  a  bad  old  maid,  either  ;  that  is,  she  did  not 
mean  to  be.  She  only  lived  all  alone,  and  there  did  not 
much  happen  to  her.  Nine  from  four  you  can't ;  so  you 
borrow  ten.  Miss  Suprema  went  borrowing  ten  all  along 
the  line.  She  got  things  mixed  up  sometimes,  and  her 
sums  would  n't  prove. 

Mrs.  Benny  Dutell  was  the  postmaster's  wife ;  what 
came  to  her  never  grew  cool  in  her  hands ;  so  that  you 
had  your  own  story  passed  round  to  you  again  presently, 
or  even  beforehand ;  as  if  it  had  got  ahead  of  the  sun 
round  the  world,  —  by  the  way  of  Upper  Five  Corners,  or 
Lower  Green  Point. 

Dr.  Plaice  had  hardly  gone  away  into  his  office,  when 
Miss  Suprema  came  "  perpendiculating  "  over.  She  walked 


ZERUB   THRO  OP'S  EXPERIMENT.         343 

very  stiff  and  straight  and  quick  ;  so  that  she  seemed  like 
a  stick  shot  broadside,  instead  of  endwise,  keeping  its  up 
rightness  as  it  went ;  or  as  a  water-spout  or  a  sand-column, 
that  slides  tall  and  swift  from  horizon  to  horizon,  without 
a  motion  or  a  swaying,  save  determinately  on. 

Nothing  prevented  Miss  Suprema  from  getting  over 
sooner,  and  meeting  Dr.  Plaice  there,  but  an  embarras 
des  richesses.  She  stood  in  the  middle  of  her  bedroom, 
and  fairly  spun  when  she  saw  the  furniture  going  in,  and 
the  big  box,  marked  "  Cabinet  Organ,"  slid  over  the 
threshold  along  a  board ;  when  she  spied  by  the  strong 
western  light  shining  in  level  through  the  room,  the  busy 
group  about  it  unpacking ;  and  when  Dr.  Plaice  sat  down 
and  began  to  play.  Her  bonnet  was  in  the  closet ;  and 
she  would  have  to  turn  her  back,  and  disturb  her  hearing, 
to  fetch  it  and  put  it  on ;  besides,  if  she  did,  —  which 
way  ?  She  was  in  a  hurry  to  get  to  Mrs.  Benny's  before 
the  sun  went  down  upon  her  pheese ;  and  she  was  eager 
to  gather  more  to  go  with  to-morrow.  She  wanted  to  run 
right  in  among  the  Whapshares,  and  she  did  not  want  to 
"  stop  things  ; "  the  end  was,  that  she  came  in  upon  their 
comfortable  twilight  complacency,  waiting  for  Lydia's 
return  and  rapture. 

"Well,  I  declare!     You  are  spread  out!" 

Miss  Suprema  looked  round  the  room  beamingly.  She 
looked  at  the  carpet,  and  the  gray  moreen  curtains,  and 
the  marble-topped  pier-table ;  she  did  not  mean  to  see 
everything  all  at  once  ;  she  let  the  organ  wait  in  its  shady 
corner. 

"  No,  Miss  Suprema,"  said  Caroline  ;  "  not  spread  out ; 
only  drawn  in.  The  syrup  is  boiled  down,  that  is  all." 

"  To  a  richness  !  Well,  how  elegant  you  do  look  !  You 
won't  let  it  make  any  difference  towards  me,  will  you ; 
but  I  may  run  in  neighborly  just  the  same,  if  I  rub  my 
feet  well?  " 


344  HOMESPUN  YARNS. 

Miss  Suprema  had  quick  little  looks,,  that  she  sent  every 
where  out  of  her  round  brown  eyes  like  a  squirrel's  ;  never 
moving  her  body,  that  sat  straight  up  from  the  edge  of 
her  chair,  but  only  her  head.  Lydia  Whapshare  said 
all  she  wanted  was  a  bushy  tail,  and  a  nut  between  her 
forepaws.  But,  to  do  her  full  credit,  the  nut  was  seldom 
lacking,  metaphorically ;  and  the  tale  was  bushy  enough 
by  the  time  she  ran  up  the  road  again  with  it,  along  under 
the  wall. 

5j£ith  her  swift  continued  peeps,  she  was  the  first  to  see 
Dr.  Arthur  Plaice,  standing  again  in  the  doorway  of  the 
room  in  the  increasing  twilight. 

"  Can  you  lend  me  a  hammer  for  a  moment,  Mrs. 
Whapshare  ?  "  he  asked. 

And  while  Mrs.  Whapshare  went  for  the  hammer, 
Suprema  Sharpe  had  a  good  look  at  him,  with  what  light 
there  was  at  her  own  back,  and  full  in  his  face. 

He  was  a  very  handsome  man,  she  saw  that,  with  a 
square,  firm  figure,  not  over-tall,  a  calm  equipoise  in  look 
and  attitude,  and  all  the  indescribable  bearing  of  a  gentle 
man,  that  shows  itself  whether  he  stands  quietly  waiting, 
or  moves  and  speaks. 

He  neither  came  into  the  room,  nor  withdrew  shyly,  but 
simply  stood  where  the  last  natural  act  left  him,  until  it 
should  be  time  for  the  next.  Self-consciousness,  which  is 
neither  ladylike  nor  gentlemanly,  always  has  to  do  some 
thing  between.  Dr.  Plaice  could  make  a  pause.  When 
Mrs.  Whapshare  brought  him  the  hammer,  he  thanked 
her  and  turned  away. 

"  So  that  's  him  ?  "  said  Miss  Suprema. 

"  That  is  Dr.  Plaice,"  replied  Mrs.  Whapshare. 

"  Young,  is  n't  he?" 

"  I  dare  say.     I  do  not  know  his  age." 

"  Just  beginning.     Well,  you  won't  be  much  knocked 


ZERUB   THROOP'S  EXPERIMENT.         345 

up  nights  yet  a  while.  To  be  sure,  he  's  got  the  little  east 
door  to  himself.  It  '11  be  sociable  evenings.  It 's  a  good 
plan  to  have  somebody  there.  I  wonder  you  never 
thought  of  it  before.  You  did  n't  really  want  that  room. 
If  you  had  only  made  up  your  mind  last  year,  there  was 
little  Lot  Green  looking  everywhere  for  a  place  to  put  up 
his  sign,  and  begin  turnin'  at  law.  You  would  n't  have 
had  much  company  of  him,  though,  for  his  evenings  were 
spoken  for  ;  and  it  would  n't  have  been  permanent,  be 
cause  he  's  married  now,  and  keeping  house  and  office  all 
together.  I  guess  it  happened  right  as  it  is." 

"  We  had  only  just  come  through  to  the  bare  floor 
here,"  said  Martha,  bluntly ;  "  and  I  don't  suppose  we 
shall  have  much  to  do  with  Dr.  Plaice's  evenings." 

"  He  's  right  in  the  house,  anyway  ;  and  there  's  always 
hammers  and  things  ;  you  '11  get  acquainted.  Well,  I  must 
go.  I  only  looked  in  for  a  minute.  I  '11  come  again.  If 
anything  should  happen  that  I  should  n't  be  able  to  come, 
you  know,  why,  there  's  the  doctor  ;  and  one  of  my  little 
quinsies  might  be  an  encouragement  to  him." 

She  fairly  forgot  the  organ,  after  all. 

She  stood  on  the  sidewalk  for  a  moment,  when  she  had 
got  out,  with  a  flapping  in  her  mind  that  she  was  subject 
to,  like  a  sail  in  a  flaw  of  wind.  She  trimmed  her  decis 
ions,  however,  quickly,  and  laid  her  course  direct  for  Mrs. 
Dutell's. 

She  must  go,  sundown  or  not.  She  had  a  little  joke  on 
the  tip  of  her  tongue  that  tingled.  Keep  it  overnight  ? 
She  might  as  well  have  tried  to  keep  a  Spanish  fly  there. 

She  was  in  too  much  of  a  hurry  with  it,  though,  when 
she  reached  Mrs.  Benny's. 

"  It 's  easy  enough  to  guess  now  what  will  take 
Plaice  !  "  she  cried  right  out,  without  preface. 

"  La !   what  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Benny  Dutell. 


346  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

Then  Miss  Suprema  saw  that  she  had  begun  at  the 
wrong  end  of  her  little  joke,  and  spoiled  it.  I  am  viciously 
glad  she  did.  I  am  glad  she  found  out  once  in  a  while,  in 
her  own  small  way,  which  was  all  the  way  she  could,  how 
good  it  is  to  have  things  tipped  out  in  a  hurry,  wrong  end 
foremost.  There  are  two  kinds  of  gossip,  —  the  one  that 
purely  invents  or  recklessly  misrepresents ;  and  the  one 
that  shrewdly  spies,  puts  this  and  that  together,  guesses, 
and  anticipates ;  and  the  latter  is  indescribably  the  most 
aggravating.  It  was  Miss  Suprema's  sort. 

You  can  sit  in  your  own  room  complacently,  with  a  three 
weeks'  influenza,  and  be  told  from  outside  that  you  have 
got  the  varioloid,  or  a  softening  of  the  brain ;  or  that  you 
have  quarreled  with  your  wife  or  husband,  and  run  away. 
All  that  will  right  itself ;  but  to  be  informed  that  you 
are  about  to  give  out  invitations  to  a  party,  or  publish  a 
book,  or  go  to  Europe,  when  you  can't  say  you  have  n't  it 
in  your  mind,  or  to  be  "  speered  at "  in  regard  to  an  im 
pending  engagement  in  your  family,  which  you  can  neither 
declare  nor  deny,  —  to  be  told  your  own  news  before  it  is 
news,  —  I  wonder  if  that  was  not  the  devil's  fine  art  in 
torturing  Job  ?  His  friends  came  to  tell  him  of  all  these 
things,  which  was  all  they  were  left  alive  for.  I  think  he 
must  have  wished  they  had  not  been  left  alive,  and  that 
he  could  have  found  the  things  out  quietly  in  time  for  him 
self. 

This  looking  over  shoulders  spiritually  into  the  page  of 
a  life  that  is  barely  being  written,  this  picking  pockets  of 
personal  experience,  is  the  mean  enormity  of  which  the 
literal  prying  into  private  letters,  or  stealing  porte-mon- 
naies,  are  only  feeble  types.  Yet  the  social  pickpockets 
run  about  safely  and  respectably,  spending  their  stolen 
change,  and  there  is  no  house  of  correction  for  them. 

Arthur  Plaice  had  not  got  his  clothes  hung  up  in  his 


ZERUB   TH ROOF'S  EXPERIMENT.        347 

closet,  or  his  books  put  up  on  their  shelves,  before  all  that 
might  happen,  —  well,  all  that  did  happen,  for  what  is  the 
use  of  trying  to  keep  the  story  back  after  a  Miss  Suprema 
has  seized  hold  of  it  ?  —  was  an  "  I  told  you  so  !  "  in 
Rintheroote. 

There  are  two  ways  in  which  very  ordinary  men  are  in 
fluenced  by  this  social  force  which  is  brought  to  bear  upon 
their  doings  (doings,  I  mean,  which  tend,  or  may  drift, 
matrimonially),  and  of  which  they  usually  become  aware 
before  the  women  do.  It  either  frightens  them  off,  or 
frightens  them  on.  Arthur  Plaice  showed  his  manhood 
in  that  it  did  neither  with  him. 

He  was  probably  well  aware  that  all  Rintheroote  was 
peeping  and  noticing,  guessing  and  prophesying ;  yet  he 
went  in  and  out  just  the  same,  coming  into  easy  and  nat 
ural  contact  with  the  Whapshare  family,  living  along  pre 
cisely  as  if  his  life  had  been  let  alone. 

Caroline,  the  pretty  one,  and  the  obvious  one,  of  the 
Whapshare  girls,  shielded  by  this  simple  "  grit,"  as 
Robert  Collyer  would  call  it,  of  the  young  doctor,  from  the 
shame  and  harassment  that  many  a  delicate  girl  does 
have  to  go  through,  —  that  I  have  seen  delicate  girls  suf 
fer  from,  —  of  knowing  that  a  thing  has  been  surmised 
impertinently,  and  that  he  has  heard  it,  and  is  shy  or  cool 
in  consequence,  —  Caroline  Whapshare  went  on  inno 
cently  and  quietly,  and  kept  her  little  school  up-stairs. 

There  was  nothing  said  about  the  school  before  ?  No  ; 
because  we  came  in  at  the  Whapshares',  out  of  school- 
hours,  at  dinner-time,  when  the  pea-soup  was  burning ; 
and  in  the  afternoons  the  little  children  did  not  come. 

Caroline  Whapshare  had  not  served  an  apprenticeship 
to  any  system.  She  had  never  been  inside  a  kindergar 
ten  ;  but  she  had  a  garden  for  little  children  in  her  heart, 
as  every  woman  has  who  is  born  with  the  genius  of 


348  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

motherhood  in  her,  —  a  place  full  of  blessed  waiting 
growths  and  living  images  of  truth,  vital  and  simple  with 
the  child-instinct  in  them,  —  that  has  never  died  out  of 
her,  but  flowers  forth  in  its  heavenly  use  when  the  chil 
dren  come,  as  it  was  ordained. 

She  was  full  of  little,  bright  teaching  thoughts.  Things 
came  to  her  in  clear,  happy  object-fashion.  She  delighted 
to  tell  them  again  to  little,  growing  souls,  or  even  to  think 
how  she  might  do  it.  She  felt  always,  going  through  the 
pleasant  mind-and-spirit  places,  just  as  she  did  once  in 
riding  through  a  beautiful  country,  full  of  farm  cheeriness 
and  woodland  beauty,  and  far-away,  unhaunted  nooks 
and  seclusions.  "  Oh,  what  lovely  places  to  be  a  little 
child  in !  " 

So  she  brought  out  of  all  her  school  knowledge  and  her 
later  readings,  fresh,  charming  applications.  There  was 
nothing  old  and  trite  with  her  ;  nothing  that  only  letters 
and  syllables  stood  for.  The  object,  the  very  thing  itself 
taught  of,  was  palpable  to  her  imagination  ;  and  she  made 
it  palpable  to  the  child,  in  words  quick  from  the  live  sense 
in  herself,  or  in  some  quaint,  clever,  bewitching  little  im 
provised  play.  She  kept  a  kindergarten  without  knowing 
it,  or  setting  it  up  to  be  such. 

Martha  could  not  keep  school ;  she  should  not  have  the 
patience,  she  said.  She  did  the  Martha-work,  and  was 
cumbered,  and  sometimes  cross,  poor  girl !  with  much 
serving. 

There  were  times  in  that  square  upper  south  chamber, 
where  the  sun  came  in  on  the  bare  floor,  and  where  three 
benches  and  three  little  rows  of  desks  formed  three  sides 
of  a  quadrangle,  and  the  fireplace  was  the  fourth,  with 
the  teacher's  table  in  the  corner  between  it  and  the  win 
dow,  —  times  that  those  little  souls  will  never  forget  for 
their  early  blessedness  ;  times  of  reciting  that  were  like 


ZERUB   THROOP'S  EXPERIMENT.         349 

play,  and  play-times  that  were  like  —  oh  !  what  were  they 
like? — when  they  went  "round  the  barberry-bush,"  or 
"  hunted  the  squirrel  through  the  wood,  and  lost  him  and 
found  him;  "  or  sang  ••  Chickany,  chickany,  craney  crow," 
and  ran  from  the  fox  that  was  after  the  brood  of  them. 
AVhy,  those  four  plain  walls,  and  that  bare  floor,  and  the 
three  little  low  benches  that  they  jumped  over  for  safety, 
were  to  them  all  wild  and  beautiful  nature,  full  of  fables 
and  fairy  tales  that  they  were  playing  out.  And  Caroline 
Whapshare  was  just  as  young  and  as  pleased,  and  as  full 
of  "  make-believe  "  and  "  certain-true  "  as  any  of  them. 

I  think  it  was  the  little  school,  as  much  as  anything, 
that  Arthur  Plaice  fell  in  love  with. 

All  winter  long  the  little  feet,  trudging  up  and  down 
the  long  back  stairs,  and  the  little  voices,  shrill  and  sweet 
and  happy,  sounded  into  his  heart,  and  told  tales  there ; 
and  all  winter  long  the  sight  of  Caroline  Whapshare's 
face,  fair  and  sunshiny,  grew  to  be  to  him  a  daily  bread 
of  blessing  that  his  life  had  waited  for. 

He  did  spend  many  an  evening  in  the  cosy  home  room, 
where  they  were  "  having  the  good  of  their  best  things  ;  " 
he  helped  Charlotte  with  her  sums,  and  he  mended  Miles's 
skates ;  he  went  off  skating  with  them  all,  boys  and  girls, 
up  the  shining  river,  in  the  still,  keen  moonlight ;  he 
brought  home  nuts  sometimes,  and  cracked  and  picked 
them,  and  Martha  made  pan-candy  ;  he  read  aloud  lovely 
stories,  and  books  of  curious  fact,  while  the  sewing-baskets 
were  out  and  the  needles  were  busy  ;  he  showed  John 
how  to  carve  brackets  and  boxes ;  he  played  for  them 
upon  the  organ  ;  and  on  Sunday  evenings  they  all  sang 
together  glorious  and  tender  hymns,  or  listened  while  he 
drew  forth  from  the  stops  and  keys  the  grand,  beautiful 
meanings  of  Handel  and  Beethoven. 

He  brought   into  the  house  a  wealth  of  resource   and 


350  HOMESPUN  YARNS. 

companionship  ;  and  in  return  he  received  —  home.  He 
had  not  had  a  home  before  for  fifteen  years ;  there  had 
only  been  for  him  school  and  college,  and  the  world. 

Why  could  not  people  let  them  all  alone,  to  take  what 
God  was  giving,  and  to  make  their  simple  history  ? 

All  the  while,  the  vulgar,  hurrying  gossip  was  going 
about,  robbing  the  sweet,  unconscious  time  that  lives  have 
a  right  to  before  they  find  out  their  own  whole  secrets  ; 
interfering,  concluding,  spoiling.  For  while  Caroline 
knew  nothing  of  it,  because  they  guarded  her  so,  and 
because  she  had  that  kind  of  dignity  that  silly  imperti 
nence  could  never  approach  directly,  Arthur  Plaice  and 
her  mother  each  came  to  know  it  separately  quite  well ; 
and  each  felt  at  last  uncomfortably  responsible. 

Dr.  Plaice  was  not  scared  nor  small  about  it.  He  had 
no  little  pitiful,  provoked  corner  in  his  mind,  ever  so  far 
back,  in  which  he  visited  upon  Caroline  "Whapshare  the 
annoyance  he  certainly  did  feel.  Her  face  was  just  as 
dear  and  sunshiny  to  him  as  ever ;  and  he  let  her  see  just 
as  plainly  the  reflected  shine  in  his.  But  he  knew  that 
he  had  a  long  waiting-time  before  him  in  his  life  ;  and  he 
had  a  conscience  :  these  two  things  made  a  difference. 

He  began  to  be  busy  in  his  office,  or  to  be  called  away 
now  and  then,  more  frequently  than  he  had  used.  Mrs. 
Whapshare  had  ripping,  untidy,  or  bulky  work  up-stairs 
sometimes,  and  carried  off  the  large  kerosene  lamp  from 
below  to  do  it  by ;  and  where  mother  was,  there  was  al 
ways  the  household.  Even  Miss  Suprema  could  see  that 
they  were  not  always  now  "  lit  up  and  waiting "  in  the 
curtained  room.  Lydia  had  a  candle,  and  practised  all 
alone,  often  ;  that  was  dull.  It  was  all  duller  than  it  had 
been  ;  they  hardly  knew  when  it  began  to  change,  but  the 
winter  grew  a  great  deal  wearier  toward  the  end. 

It  made  no  difference ;  they  could  not  defend  them- 


ZERUB   THROOP'S  EXPERIMENT.         351 

selves ;  gossip  would  have  something.  Dr.  Plaice  was 
"cooling  off"  now;  the  AVhapshares  had  "taken  hold 
rather  too  strong;"  "all  the  time  never  held  out ;"  "it 
would  do  Dr.  Plaice  more  good,  as  a  young  physician,  to 
go  about  and  become  acquainted  generally."  "  And  what 
could  it  amount  to  ?  Neither  of  them  had  anything."  "  It 
was  strange  a  woman  of  Mrs.  Whapshare's  experience 
had  n't  had  more  judgment." 

Some  of  these  things  crept  round  at  last  to  Martha's 
knowledge.  They  made  her  harder  and  sharper  than 
ever.  She  said  nothing  about  them  ;  but  she  was  brusque, 
even  rude,  now  and  then,  to  Arthur  Plaice ;  she  was 
abrupt  with  her  mother,  and  with  Caroline  she  was  like  a 
thorn-hedge,  bristling  and  thrusting  sharp  points  at  her 
continually,  by  way  of  sheltering  her  in. 

Yet,  as  Suprema  Sharpe  herself  had  said,  he  was  "  there 
right  in  the  house ;  and  there  were  always  hammers  and 
things."  Some  pleasant  hours  were  natural,  inevitable  ; 
he  could  not  always  be  denying  himself ;  neither  could 
even  Martha  be  always  on  guard  against  what  there  might 
be  no  real  danger  of,  and  at  any  rate  was  nobody's  busi 
ness. 

The  days  lengthened,  and  the  spring  came  round.  Mrs. 
Whapshare  had  taken  Rufus  Abell's  advice,  and,  instead 
of  selling  her  garden  lot,  had  given  him  a  two-years'  mort 
gage  upon  the  whole  place,  for  which  he  had  lent  her  the 
sixteen  hundred  dollars.  At  the  end  of  that  time,  he  told 
her,  if  things  were  not  easier  for  her  somehow,  she  could 
sell  at  an  advanced  value,  pay  up  the  mortgage,  and  have 
something  left.  Meanwhile,  as  Mrs.  Whapshare  said,  the 
children  would  have  two  years  more  of  breathing-time  be 
fore  she  walled  them  in. 


352  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 


III. 


HOW  THE   COMET   TOLD   TALES,  AND   SET   THE   SOLAR   SYS 
TEM   IN   COMMOTION. 

The  houses  on  the  east,  or  rather  southeast  side  of  Ford 
Street  opened  by  their  front  and  back  doors  into  two  dif 
ferent  worlds,  as  the  lives  of  men  also  do. 

One  way,  there  was  the  dusty,  glaring  highroad,  with 
the  street-cars  running  up  to  the  corner ;  the  bank,  the 
post-office,  the  shops,  the  town-pump,  and  the  hay-scales, 
all  in  sight,  and  constituting  what  New  England  people 
call  "  the  prospect." 

The  other  way,  there  was  green  grass,  a  sloping  bank, 
the  shade  of  trees  and  wild  shrubs,  secret  stillness  and 
beauty ;  and  the  broad,  slow  river  widened  out  above  the 
dams. 

Nobody  would  have  thought  it,  going  by  along  the  front. 
Nobody  would  have  thought  that  behind  the  common 
place  village,  with  its  houses  crowding  right  on  to  the 
thoroughfare,  was  this  escape  into  a  hidden  and  wonder 
ful  delight.  People  did  not  remember  it,  although  they 
knew,  who  lived  on  the  other  side,  and  had  close  back 
yards,  stopped  short  by  the  yards  of  Chaffer  Street. 

The  little  children  knew.     Little  children  always  know. 

Half  Caroline  Whapshare's  teaching  was  done,  in  pleas 
ant  weather,  out  on  the  ''back  slope."  There  was  a  real 
barberry-bush  to  run  around  ;  there  were  beautiful  hiding- 
places  for  the  "chickens,"  and  sly  corners  for  the  "fox." 
Above  all,  there  was  room  for  the  planets. 

Dr.  Plaice  came  through  the  long  hall  of  the  old  house, 
one  day  in  May,  drawn  by  the  open-air  chatter  of  little 
voices  like  loosened  brooks.  He  stood  there  a  minute  or 


ZERUB   THROOP'S  EXPERIMENT.        353 

two  in  the  end  door,  looking  on  at  a  wonderful  game,  — 
no  less  than  the  game  of  the  Stars  in  their  Courses. 

The  roundabout,  which  dried  the  clothes  on  Monday, 
had  its  long  arms  taken  out,  and  piled  away  heside  the 
fence.  To  the  swivel  at  the  top  of  its  centre-post  were 
fastened  stout  twine  strings,  longer  and  shorter ;  and  each 
of  these  was  held  at  its  farther  end  by  a  little  scholar, 
who,  drawing  by  its  tether  to  a  greater  or  less  distance, 
and  keeping  the  line  taut,  was  joyously  revolving  in  a 
prescribed  orbit,  to  the  time  of  a  tune  which  Caroline, 
seated  on  a  low  stool  at  the  centre,  and  personating  the 
Sun,  sang  to  them  as  the  music  of  the  spheres. 

Little  golden-haired  Mercury  —  the  youngest  pet  pupil, 
Robie  Lewiston  —  trotted  around  close  by  her  feet ;  oc 
culted  now  and  then  against  her  lap  when  he  grew  tired. 
A  pretty  eight-years-old  Venus,  sunny-eyed  and  ringleted, 
came  next ;  and  then  sober,  clear-faced,  pleasant  Ruth 
Fellman,  for  Earth.  Mars  was  a  sturdy,  rollicking, 
rather  unmanageable  fellow ;  Jupiter,  Saturn,  Uranus, 
were  the  big  scholars,  in  the  edge  of  their  teens.  Farther 
into  space  Caroline  did  not  try  to  go  ;  nor  could  she,  with 
out  getting  into  the  river.  It  was  enough  for  all  practical 
purposes. 

By  and  by  (this  was  the  best  part  of  the  play)  Caroline 
lifted  up  her  hand,  and  forth  started  a  comet  from  behind 
a  gooseberry-bush.  From  away  down  by  the  bank  of  the 
river  he  came,  describing  his  parabola  among  the  planets, 
bearing  down  toward  the  Sun,  crossing  orbit  after  orbit, 
but  never  when  the  heavenly  body  was  there.  This  was 
the  "  steering."  It  was  as  great  fun  as  coasting  down  hill 
among  multitudinous  sleds.  He  took  his  sight  from  the 
start,  and  threaded  his  way,  bobbing  under  the  lines,  and, 
wheeling  at  length  close  around  with  little  Mercury,  shot 
off  again  upon  the  other  side.  Dimmy  Pickett  did  it ;  a 


354  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

pennon  of  white  muslin,  fastened  around  his  head,  flew 
behind  him.  This  was  the  comet's  tail.  Dimmy  was 
only  seven  years  old,  little,  and  bright.  A  larger,  duller 
boy  could  not  have  done  it. 

When  the  play  was  over,  the  planets,  out  of  breath, 
came  up  around  the  Sun  ;  and  the  Sun  asked  them  ques 
tions, 

"  What  are  the  strings  meant  for  ?  " 

"  Gravitation,  that  ties  them  to  the  sun." 

"  What  is  your  pulling  away  as  far  as  you  can  for  ?  " 

"  Centrifugal  force,  that  makes  them  fly  off." 

"  What  do  both  together  do  ?  " 

"  Keep  them  going  round  and  round  just  in  their  own 
separate  places." 

"  Are  there  really  strings  up  in  the  sky  ?  "  asked  little 
Venus. 

Caroline  held  up  her  finger  and  beckoned  to  Venus. 
Venus  came. 

"  Why  did  you  come  to  me  ?  I  did  not  pull  you  with 
the  string." 

"  You  beckoned." 

"  God  beckons." 

All  the  little  planets  were  still.  There  was  silence  in 
their  heaven  for  the  space  of  half  a  minute. 

Then  Dimmy  Pickett  spoke. 

"  Suppose  she  had  had  her  back  turned  ?  " 

"  Every  little  atom  in  the  whole  world  of  worlds  has  its 
face  toward  God." 

"  What  do  they  pull  away  for,  then  ?  " 

"  God  gives  them  a  will  of  their  own,  to  go  a  little  way 
of  their  own ;  but  they  cannot  get  beyond  his  will.  The 
two  wills  make  the  beautiful  glad  motions,  and  all  the  life 
and  the  glory. 

"  There  are  anemones  down  by  the  spring.  Who  will 
come  this  afternoon  and  go  with  me  to  gather  them  ?  " 


ZERUB    THROOP'S  EXPERIMENT.        355 

Caroline  had  given  them  their  bit  of  physics  and  meta 
physics.  It  was  enough  for  this  time. 

Everybody  would  go  and  gather  anemones,  —  every 
body  but  big  Jupiter.  He  did  not  say  anything ;  he 
wanted  to  play  football. 

"  May  I  go  too  ?  "  asked  Dr.  Plaice,  coming  over  from 
the  door. 

Caroline  had  sat  with  her  back  toward  him.  She  started 
a  little,  and  flushed. 

'•It  is  the  children's  walk.  Will  you  have  Dr.  Plaice 
go  too  ?  "  she  asked  them. 

"  He  does  n't  belong,"  whispered  Venus,  shyly. 

"  Oh  !  I  'm  the  new  planet,  —  the  far,  far-away  one, 
that  only  comes  in  sight  once  in  —  ever  so  long.  I  Ve 
been  a  good  while  getting  here.  But  I  'm  discovered 
now,  and  must  be  counted  in.  I  belong ;  truly  I  do." 

Something  made  the  pretty  Sun  change  color  yet  more 
at  this.  Among  them  all,  nobody  had  the  presence  of 
mind  to  say  him  nay.  So  the  doctor  said  he  would  come, 
and  bring  his  microscope  with  him.  After  the  tremen- 
dousness  of  things  in  general,  they  might  like  to  descend 
to  something  small  and  particular. 

Dimmy  Pickett  stood  staring,  in  a  queer,  bright,  eager 
way,  while  the  plan  was  settled.  He  looked  at  the  doctor 
and  at  Caroline,  as  if  he  were  making  a  bewildering  com 
putation,  astronomical  or  otherwise,  too  large  for  his  small 
head. 

Caroline  did  not  notice  ;  she  was  busy  with  little  Mer 
cury.  But  the  doctor  saw  it,  and  had  an  end-of-the-world 
instinct  that  the  comet  was  bearing  down  upon  him. 

All  at  once,  the  erratic  little  luminary  did  bear  down 
upon  the  Sun,  displacing  Mercury. 

"  See  here  !  "  said  he,  breaking  out  with  a  shy  bravado 
in  a  child's  loud  whisper.  "  I  know  something,  Miss 
Caroline,  —  I  do  ;  only  Flipper  told  me  not  to  tell." 


356  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

"  Then,"  said  innocent  Caroline,  "  be  sure  you  don't. 
You  won't  ever  be  a  man,  —  a  splendid,  honorable  man, 
—  if  you  tell  things  that  you  ought  not.  And  say  '  Phi- 
lippa.'  Your  sister  has  a  pretty  name  ;  but  '  Flipper  '  is  n't 
pretty." 

"  Everybody  calls  her  '  Flipper.'  She  is  '  Flipper ' !  " 
returned  the  Comet,  half  inclined  to  be  a  little  sulky.  He 
had  expected  to  have  his  secret  teased  out  of  him. 

Dr.  Plaice  caught  the  last  sentences  as  he  turned  away 
quickly,  for  fear  of  what  might  come  next.  He  walked 
back  into  his  office  with  an  excited  perplexity  in  his  mind. 

How  long  could  he  save  Caroline  from  this  ?  And 
what  ought  he  to  do  ?  Go  away  ?  or  stay,  and  do  that 
which  he  had  hardly  made  up  his  mind  would  be  right 
to  do? 

He  sat  down  in  his  corner-chair,  near  which  the  little 
passage  and  the  blinded  east  door  were  open,  letting  in 
the  soft  summer  of  a  few  hours  that  the  May  day  was 
giving. 

He  had  hardly  sat  there  two  minutes,  when  little  steps 
came  by  around  the  corner,  and  little  heavenly  bodies  — 
three  or  four  —  made  a  constellation  just  outside  the 
folded  blinds. 

He  could  see  them  as  they  stood.  The  Comet  looked 
big  and  red  and  portentous ;  little  Venus  was  sparkling 
and  coaxing. 

"  Tell  me,  Dimmy  ;  just  me,  you  know." 

And  Earth  and  Jupiter  crowded  up  close  also  to  hear. 
"  I  s'pose  Flipper  meant  not  to  tell  her  ;  besides,  she  's 
always  telling  everybody  not  to  tell  everything.     And  they 
do.     She  does." 

"  Grown-up  people  tell  the  most,  I  think,"  said  Venus, 
gravely.  "  They  keep  all  the  telling  and  all  the  cake, 
and  say  it  is  n't  good  for  children.  Is  it  about  us, 
Dimmy  ?  " 


ZERUB   THROOP'S  EXPERIMENT.        357 

"  I  told  you  't  was.  By  least  it  would  be  some  time. 
She  said  it  would  be  a  forever  vexation." 

"  Vacation,  you  mean,  Dimmy,"  said  elder  Earth. 

"  I  say  vexation  at  home  ;  and  Flipper  says  it  is  vexa 
tion.  So  now,"  said  Dimmy. 

"  I  should  n't  like  a  forever  vacation,"  said  Ruth  Fell- 
man,  waiving  the  point. 

"  But  it  would  be,"  persisted  Dimmy,  "  if  she  went  and 
got  married.  And  Dr.  Plaice  is  her  beau.  Flipper  said 
so." 

"  Poh !  "  said  big  Jupiter,  and  walked  off. 

Earth  and  Venus  looked  at  each  other  with  a  wide 
wonder  in  their  eyes,  and  set  their  little  white  teeth  sud 
denly  very  tight  upon  their  under  lips.  It  was  a  tre 
mendous  secret ' 

Venus  came  to  first. 

"  Well,  it  must  be  pretty  nice  to  have  a  beau,"  she 
said. 

"  Mr.  Dimmy  Comet !  "  said  a  voice  behind  them.  The 
blind  opened,  and  the  doctor  stood  there. 

"  Allow  me  to  beg  the  honor  of  a  further  acquaintance 
with  so  well-informed  a  gentleman.  You  will  please  to 
walk  into  my  office  here." 

Dr.  Plaice's  hand  was  on  Dimmy's  shoulder. 

"  Oh,  my  gracious !  "  cried  Earth  and  Venus  simultane 
ously,  and  simultaneously  rushed  down  a  broad  vista  of 
space,  that  is,  the  village  street,  that  turned  between  the 
tin-shop  and  the  tailor's. 

That  light  hand  on  Dimmy's  shoulder  was  not  to  be 
mistaken.  He  walked  in  up  the  step  as  a  little  boy  does 
walk  in  when  his  sins  have  found  him  out. 

Dr.  Plaice  closed  the  door. 

"Take  a  seat,  Mr.  Comet,"  he  said  politely.  "The 
arm-chair,  if  you  please." 


358  HOMESPUN  YARNS. 

If  he  had  put  him  on  a  cricket,  or  let  him  stand,  it 
would  not  have  been  half  so  bad.  The  arm-chair  was 
high,  formidable,  and  awfully  suggestive.  The  tone  of 
the  "  if  you  please  "  was  unrelenting.  The  doctor  might 
be  going  to  pull  all  his  teeth  out ;  but  he  was  without 
remedy. 

Dimmy  hitched  up  backwards  into  the  great  chair,  put 
ting  his  heel  upon  the  forward  rung,  and  hoisting  himself 
by  the  arm.  Seated  there,  his  legs  hung  ridiculously  short 
and  small. 

"  The  leading  object  of  my  life,"  said  the  terrible  doc 
tor,  turning  to  the  mantel,  and  taking  up  his  meerschaum, 
"  is  enlightenment.  You  have  enlightened  me  very  much 
indeed  within  the  last  five  minutes,  Mr.  Comet.  I  feel 
exceedingly  obliged  to  you,  —  and  to  Flipper."  And  the 
doctor  filled  leisurely  the  bowl  of  his  pipe,  pressing  the 
tobacco  down  evenly. 

"'  Smoke,  Mr.  Comet  ?  No,  I  thought  not.  Judging 
professionally,  I  should  say  that  your  constitution  was  not 
quite  —  up  to  it." 

Dr.  Plaice  struck  a  match,  held  it  to  the  pipe,  and  took 
a  whiff  or  two,  then  drew  a  chair,  and  sat  down  himself. 

This  was  awful !  How  long  was  it  to  go  on  ?  How 
long  did  it  take  the  doctor  to  smoke  his  pipe  ?  Would  he 
keep  him  there  all  day  mocking  at  him  ?  "Would  he  ever 
let  him  go  ?  And  what  would  Flipper  say  ? 

Dimmy  twisted  his  short  legs  desperately,  and  untwisted 
them  hazardously,  and  recklessly  twisted  them  again.  He 
squeezed  the  rim  of  his  little  soft  felt  hat  into  a  great 
many  doubles,  to  correspond  with  his  legs  ;  then  he  let  it 
out,  and  squeezed  it  up  again.  He  began  to  grow  alarm 
ingly  red  and  swelled  in  the  face,  with  mingled  shame  and 
fear  and  indignation. 

"  Your  news  was  very  interesting,  Mr.  Comet,"  resumed 


ZERUR   THROOP'S  EXPERIMENT.        359 

the  doctor  ;  "  especially  to  myself.  For  that  reason,  and 
for  another  that  I  will  mention  presently,  I  should  prefer 
that  it  should  not  be  spoken  of  in  like  manner  again.  Do 
you  understand  ?  " 

For  all  answer,  Dimmy  struggled  with  his  legs  again, 
and  obliterated  his  cap. 

"  The  second  reason  is,  that  it  does  not  happen  to  he 
true.  If  it  were,  I  should  be  likely  to  tell  of  it  myself. 
A  gentleman,  Mr.  Comet,  does  not  speak  of  other  people's 
personal  affairs  until  he  is  authorized  ;  and  he  never  re 
peats  things  that  he  hears  in  a  whisper,  with  a  '  Don't  tell! ' 
neither,  I  think,  does  a  lady.  In  the  first  place,  ladies 
and  gentlemen  do  not  very  often  hear  those  things  at  all." 

Dimmy's  redness  grew  ominous.  He  winked  very 
hard.  These  were  very  grown-up  words  of  the  doctor's  ; 
but  instinct  translated  them.  He  learned  a  half-page  of 
dictionary  at  least,  in  these  five  minutes,  that  he  never 
forgot.  He  was  very  much  ashamed,  and  he  was  very 
mad.  His  legs  were  in  such  a  snarl  with  the  chair  by 
this  time  that  it  was  hai'd  to  tell  which  was  human  and 
which  was  mahogany  ;  his  face  was  big  with  tears  that  he 
would  not  cry,  and  his  hat  was  pretty  nearly  hopeless. 

At  last,  two  words  came  forth,  very  much  thickened 
and  swollen  themselves  with  their  long  restraint :  — 

"  By  George  !  " 

Dimmy  lisped  a  little  on  his  g's  ;  and  the  expletive 
sounded  like  something  huge  and  soft,  flung  with  great 
force,  and  hitting  as  hard  as  it  could.  Dr.  Plaice  laughed 
out ;  he  could  not  help  it ;  but  then  he  immediately  got 
up,  and  came  over  toward  Dimmy,  with  his  hand  held 
out.  He  did  not  wish  to  humiliate  and  enrage  him  utterly. 
He  meant  to  treat  him  really  like  a  man  at  last. 

"  That  is  all,  Dimmy.  Now  let's  shake  hands,  and  be 
friends.  You  don't  like  being  talked  to  like  a  mean  little 


360  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

man  ?  Well,  you  can  wake  up  from  that  bad  dream  all 
safe  at  seven  years  old,  with  twice  your  age  yet  to  grow 
in,  and  to  make  what  kind  of  a  man  you  will.  Miss  Car* 
oline  told  you :  if  you  want  to  be  a  '  splendid,  honorable  ' 
one,  don't  do  any  small  meddling  things,  or  tell  any  small, 
meddling  tales." 

And  Dr.  Plaice  kept  hold  of  Dimmy's  hand  till  his  legs 
untwisted,  and  he  was  slid  safely  down  out  of  the  big 
chair.  Then  Dimmy  put  on  his  cap,  pulled  it  very  much 
over  his  eyes,  and  departed  meekly  and  swiftly.  When 
he  was  around  the  corner,  however,  behind  the  tin-shop, 
he  paused,  pushed  his  cap  up  into  its  place,  took  a  good 
long  breath,  and  said  "  By  George  !  "  again.  But  there 
were  things  in  this  "  By  George  ! "  that  had  not  been  in 
the  other.  Out  of  it  came  a  good  deal  in  the  boy's  life 
that  would  not  else  have  been  there,  and  that  we  shall  not 
follow  him  on  to  tell  about. 

The  first  resultant  was  his  going  with  the  walking-party 
that  afternoon,  in  spite  of  the  tingle  with  which  he  thought 
of  it ;  which,  if  he  had  not  been  in  a  pretty  fair  sense  a 
"  by-George  "  character,  one  would  hardly  have  expected 
him  to  do.  He  had  two  minds  about  it ;  but  the  spirit 
that  swore  by  the  king  that  was  in  him  prevailed.  He 
would  n't  sneak  off,  afraid.  He  would  face  the  doctor 
and  those  girls.  Besides,  he  would  stop  the  tattle  ;  that 
is,  he  thought  he  would.  There  was  a  good  deal  of  the 
royal  in  this  for  seven  years  old. 

Venus  was  in  the  middle  of  a  knot  of  girls  when  Dimmy 
came  upon  the  field.  He  watched  and  loitered  until  she 
emerged  for  a  minute,  and  he  caught  her  upon  the  edge. 
Then  he  sauntered  by,  close  to  her,  his  hands  in  his 
pockets. 

"  I  say,"  he  said  low,  over  his  shoulder,  "  don't  tell  of 
that,  you  know.  'T  ain't  true." 


ZERUB   THROOP'S  EXPERIMENT.        361 

"  My  sakes ! "  cried  little  Venus,  coming  quite  away, 
and  going  on  with  him  ;  "  I  have  told." 

"  Poll !  "  exclaimed  Dimmy,  in  disgust.     "  Who  ?  " 

"  Just  Aurora,  my  best  friend,  you  know." 

Now  Aurora  was  just  the  biggest  little  chatterbox  in 
the  whole  school. 

Poor  Dimmy  began  to  find  out,  to  his  dismay,  how  hard 
it  is  to  catch  up  with  a  mistake.  He  thought  of  Jupiter, 
too,  off  in  his  bigger  orbit,  with  the  village  fellows. 
What  might  not  he  say,  in  his  big-boy  fashion,  worst  of 
all,  notwithstanding  his  "  Poh  "  ?  The  little  Comet  was 
very  uncomfortable,  and  wished  with  all  his  heart  that 
he  had  kept  his  tale  to  himself. 

Aurora  was  nudging  and  whispering,  walking  behind 
the  doctor  and  Miss  Caroline,  with  her  other  best  friend, 
a  larger  girl,  Laura  Frances.  It  was  plain  there  was  no 
knowing  what  might  come  of  it.  The  whole  solar  system 
would  have  hold  of  it,  and  what  a  blaze  and  whirl  that 
would  be ! 

Dimmy  marched  up  to  Dr.  Plaice,  at  his  open  office- 
door,  when  they  were  back  again,  and  the  girls  had  gone. 

"  I  can't  help  it.  after  all,"  he  said,  without  any  antece 
dent  to  the  "  it."  "  I  tried  to  stop  it,  and  it  won't." 

"  It  isn't  easy  to  stop  a  thing  that  is  once  started. 
There  's  a  law  of  nature  against  it.  But  1 11  see  what  I 
can  do,  Dimmy ;  and  it  is  all  right  between  you  and  me, 
anyway." 

Dimmy's  throat  felt  queer  ;  and  he  came  very  near 
saying  "  By  George  !  "  again. 

The  sun  was  going  down,  and  the  air  was  just  as  sweet 
and  tender  as  it  had  been  all  the  day.  Windows  and 
doors  stood  wide,  gathering  in  the  rich  feeling  of  June 
from  the  May  air.  Dr.  Plaice  came  round  through  the 
hall  again. 


362  HOMESPUN  YARNS. 

"  Miss  Caroline,"  he  said,  "  the  Golden  Gate  is  open. 
Will  you  go  down  and  see  ?  " 

The  Golden  Gate  was  the  opening  up  the  river  where 
the  west  shone  in,  and  filled  up  all  the  water  aisle  with  a 
mist  of  glory.  Far  and  deep  between  the  trees  that  closed 
on  either  side  lay  the  burning  splendor  whence  the  tide 
flowed  down  ;  and  violet  or  crimson  bars  would  lie  across 
as  the  flame  faded,  or  flecks  and  burnished  lines  of  yet 
intenser  fire  be  thrown  up  like  isles  and  coasts  along  a 
dazzling  sea,  and  all  gathered,  as  it  were,  into  one  focus 
of  light,  for  the  wooded  fringe  and  the  high  banks  of  the 
stream  covered  at  right  and  left  the  stretch  of  the  horizon, 
and  left  all  heaven  to  be  imagined  from  its  single  unclosed 
door. 

So  they  went  down  to  the  river-side.  The  sloping  bank 
shut  out  house  and  street  and  all  the  village  sounds, 
Office  and  school-room,  and  all  the  ways  by  which  their 
living  and  everybody's  else  went  on,  were  behind  them. 
Nothing  was  here  but  God's  beautiful  world  that  his  souls 
are  born  into,  and  before  them  the  Golden  Gate  lay  open. 

"  It  is  like  a  beautiful  secret,"  said  Arthur  Plaice. 

"  It  is  like  the  heaven  inside  and  behind,"  said  Caroline, 
softly. 

"  Yes  ;  it  is  like  that.  It  is  that  heaven  is  the  great, 
beautiful  secret.  There  is  a  piece  of  it,  Caroline,  that  I 
have  wished  to  tell  you.  Only  the  other  side,  there  is  still 
the  dusty  street." 

Caroline  stood  utterly  still. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  have  no  right ;  because  "  —  his  pause 
became  a  period.  "  I  have  earned  just  one  hundred  and 
fifty  dollars  all  this  last  year  beyond  what  absolutely  had 
to  keep  me,"  he  said,  speaking  it  out  quickly.  "  Your 
little  school  is  better  than  that ;  and  so  I  have  no  right  to 
tell  you  beautiful  secrets  by  the  river-side,  and  then  lead 
you  out  into  the  toil  and  dust." 


ZERUB   THROOP'S  EXPERIMENT.        363 

"You  mean  that  you  have  been  paid  just  one  hundred 
and  fifty  dollars,"  said  Caroline,  looking  at  him  very 
proudly,  and  then  turning  away  again ;  "  and  —  I  don't 
care  for  the  dusty  street." 

"  And  you  do  care  —  ?  "  asked  Arthur,  eagerly,  bend 
ing  down  to  look  after  the  shy  face. 

Caroline  flushed  up  like  the  sunrise  that  tells  God's 
morning  story  without  any  words. 

Arthur  Plaice  felt  the  joy  of  his  morning ;  but  he  was 
a  man,  and  wanted  speech, — just  a  word,  ever  so  shy, 
ever  so  small.  He  forgot  his  own  unfinished  speaking. 

"  Translate,"  he  whispered. 

"  I  do  care,"  said  Caroline,  quaintly  and  tremulously, 
"  for  the  beautiful  secret  —  which  you  did  n't  tell  me." 

And  then  the  secret  was  told. 

"  I  think  they  have  gone  through  the  Golden  Gate," 
said  Lydia,  turning  round  from  her  organ,  when  she  could 
no  longer  see  her  notes. 

"  I  believe  so  too,"  said  the  mother,  seeing  them  come 
up  the  old  stone  step  at  the  end  door  ;  but  she  said  it  to 
herself. 

She  stepped  out  from  the  little  dining-room  where  the 
tea  was  ready,  —  split-cake  toast  and  a  pink  square  of  del 
icately  broiled  smoked  salmon,  —  and  met  them  in  the 
dusk  of  the  long,  old  hall. 

"  Will  you  come  in  ?  "  she  said  to  Dr.  Plaice.  "  We 
are  just  ready." 

"  I  will  come  if  you  will  let  me,  —  mother  !  " 

He  had  got  her  hand  fast  with  Caroline's  in  his  own,  as 
he  said  it. 

"  O  you  two  children !  "  Mrs.  Whapshare  answered, 
when  she  had  got  over  a  little  sob.  "  How  long  you  have 
got  to  wait !  " 


364  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

"  We  can't  help  that,"  said  Arthur.  "  It  won't  be  any 
longer  than  it  was  before.  And  we  should  have  waited. 
I  suppose  we  have  been  waiting  ever  since  we  both  were 
born." 

Dr.  Plaice  took  care  to  meet  Dimmy  Pickett  the  next 
morning. 

"  I  've  stopped  it,  Dimmy,"  said  he,  holding  out  his 
hand. 

"  How  ?  "  said  Dimmy,  explosively. 

"  As  the  Indians  stop  the  fire  from  chasing  them  on  the 
prairies,  —  kindled  it  at  my  own  end.  I  want  your  con 
gratulations,  Dimmy.  I  am  engaged  to  be  married  — 
some  time  —  to  Miss  Caroline  Whapshare." 

Dimmy  drew  back  his  hand  to  pull  his  hat  down  over 
his  eyes.  He  shuffled  with  one  foot  back  and  forth  upon 
the  ground.  He  was  overwhelmed  by  this  real,  grown-up 
news,  told  him  with  his  hand  in  his  friend's  just  as  if  he 
had  been  big  enough.  He  did  not  know  what  to  do  with 
it,  or  how  to  get  away  and  leave  it.  All  at  once  he  pushed 
his  hat  back  again,  stood  square  upon  his  feet,  and  looked 
up. 

"  Are  you  making  fun  of  me  now,  Dr.  Plaice  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed.  I  am  telling  you  my  good  news  as  my 
particular  friend,  whom  I  told  yesterday  that  it  was  n't 
true.  You  '11  wish  me  joy,  won't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Dimmy.  "  But  if  you  want  anybody  else 
to  know  it  now,  I  guess  you  '11  have  to  tell  'em  yourself. 
There  's  Miss  Suprema  coming." 

And  Dimmy  vanished  round  the  corner  and  into  the 
school-room  door. 

Dr.  Plaice  stood  still  and  laughed.  "  That 's  the  bright 
est  boy  in  Rintheroote,"  said  he  to  himself. 

Miss  Suprema  came  up. 

"  Why,  doctor,  Avhat  is  it  ?  What  have  you  done  to 
Dimmy  Pickett  ?  " 


ZERUB   THROOP'S  EXPERIMENT.        365 

"  Told  him  some  news,  and  got  his  advice-  The  advice, 
I  think,  was  excellent ;  and  I  am  sure  my  news  was." 

Then  he  told  her  the  news ;  and  she  forgot  to  ask  him 
anything  about  the  advice. 

When  he  went  back  into  his  office,  he  saw  her,  through 
the  blinds,  standing  in  one  of  her  awful  equilibriums. 
Whether  she  should  keep  on  down  the  village  street,  tak 
ing  her  chances  as  she  went,  or  turn  about  and  go  straight 
up  to  Mrs.  Benny  Dutell's,  before  she  heard  of  it  from 
anybody  else  ?  She  could  not  expect  to  be  first  with 
everybody ;  she  must  be  first  with  Mrs.  Dutell.  So  the 
great  whirl  within  her  set  her  off  in  a  right  line  at  last, 
and  she  went  up  the  street  like  a  cyclone. 

The  doctor  drew  up  his  shoulders  with  a  laughing  shake, 
turned  to  his  desk,  and  sat  down. 

Sat  down  to  his  desk  and  his  books ;  and  knew  that  he 
began,  that  moment,  the  days  of  a  hard,  uncertain  wait 
ing.  The  news  was  told ;  the  fire  had  run  ;  he  had  made 
a  safe  place  to  stand  in  ;  and  now  he  must  only  —  stand. 
That  makes  a  long  chapter ;  the  Apostle  Paul  knew  that, 
but  it  is  not  a  chapter  for  a  small  story-book. 

"  It  is  all  there  can  be  about  it  for  ever  so  long,  Ar 
thur,"  Caroline  herself  had  said  to  him,  in  the  first, 
blessed,  sober,  certain  "  talking-over." 

"  Mother  could  not  do  without  me,  and  my  little  school, 
until  Lydia  is  ready  with  her  music,  and  John  gets  some 
sort  of  salary  that  will  more  than  pay  for  his  tickets  in  the 
cars  and  his  lunches  in  the  city.  I  must  stay  by  home,  you 
see.  I  should  n't  be  worth  taking  away  if  I  would  n't." 

For  two  years  there  was  no  new  point  reached  in  this, 
their  story ;  none  but  the  little  shining  points  that  count 
in  "  the  kingdom ;  "  in  the  inside  beauty  that  lies  away 
from  the  dusty  street ;  that  holds  all  the  loveliest  secrets, 
and  the  least  of  them  sometimes  the  loveliest ;  and  where 


366  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

the  Father  that  seeth  in  secret  keeps  his  own  inner  bless- 
edness  hidden  fast  with  the  hearts  of  his  children. 

But  in  two  years  the  outward  may  halt  step  with  the 
inward  till  the  hobhle  grows  wearisome  and  painful. 

In  two  years  Dr.  Plaice  had  put  into  the  hank  only  four 
hundred  dollars  more.  In  two  years  Mrs.  Whapshare's 
face  had  gathered  new  lines,  and  Caroline's  had  grown  a 
little  thin  and  pale  with  the  constant  pull  of  school. 

Martha  was  two  years  crustier,  and  more  like  an  old 
maid,  while  her  service  in  the  household  was  more  com 
prehensive  and  invaluable  than  ever.  Lydia  and  John 
were  growing  up  to  the  realization  of  the  hard  tug  of  life, 
and  the  knowledge  of  the  many  wants  and  wishes  that 
must  go  unmet. 

Suprema  Sharpe  had  had  two  years  in  which  to  find 
herself  often  at  default  for  fresh  aliment  of  news,  and 
driven  to  turn  and  worry  and  recrunch  the  old :  as  a  dog 
keeps  a  bone  buried,  and  digs  it  up  once  in  a  while  to  try 
for  a  little  more  marrow  in  it. 

Every  now  and  then  she  dug  up  the  Plaice-Whapshare 
bone ;  and  every  time  she  set  it  forth  in  sorrier  fashion, 
and  yet  "  bonier  "  light. 

"  The  doctor  was  tired  of  his  bargain  ;  he  had  n't  much 
the  look  of  a  satisfied  man ;  if  it  was  ever  coming  to  any 
thing,  why  did  n't  it  come  ?  The  Whapshares  held  on 
well ;  she  would  say  that  for  them." 

Or,  it  was  "a  shame  for  Mrs.  Whapshare  to  keep  Car 
oline  toiling  on  at  her  school  for  her.  Why  could  n't  she 
marry,  and  keep  school  to  help  herself  ?  Car  was  grow 
ing  old ;  she  had  got  gray  hairs  on  her  temples.  No 
doubt  they  were  awful  poor ;  everybody  knew  the  place 
was  mortgaged ;  and  old  Rufus  Abell  did  n't  lend  his 
money  just  to  get  it  back  again.  There  was  Lydia  flour 
ishing  away  on  that  organ.  Much  she  'd  ever  make  of  it ! 
She  'd  better  have  been  running  a  sewing-machine." 


ZERUB   THROOP'S  EXPERIMENT.         367 

In  two  years,  Zerub  Throop  was  dead,  and  nobody 
could  find  out,  for  a  good  while,  what  he  had  done  with 
his  money.  By  and  by  it  came  out  that  there  was  a  will, 
and  that  Ruf'us  Abell  was  executor.  Of  course ;  Rufus 
Abell  executed  everything. 

Mrs.  Whapshare  took  to  having  little  nervous  starts 
every  time  Rufus  Abell  came  round  the  corner.  She 
could  not  shake  off  the  notion  that  news  was  coming  to 
her  yet,  from  old  Zerub  ;  from  old  Zerub  —  and  the  Lord  ; 
for  she  remembered  always  that  about  the  king's  heart ; 
and  she  knew  that  in  the  inward  light  of  things  she  had  a 
right,  and  that  the  Lord  and  his  angels  live  and  work  con 
tinually  in  the  inward  light,  where  man  can  neither  see 
nor  reach. 

But  Rufus  went  and  came,  and  never  stopped,  or  even 
looked  up  at  the  Whapshare  windows.  It  was  plain  that 
he  had  no  thought  of  any  contingency  for  them. 

All  that  was  known  about  the  will  was,  that  it  was  an 
odd  one  ;  as  it  would  not  have  been  Zerub  Throop's  if  it 
were  not.  That  nothing  was  to  be  settled,  —  save  certain 
legacies,  the  chief  of  which  was  to  Sarah  Hand,  provid 
ing  for  her  and  for  the  cat, —  for  five  years  ;  only  the 
property  to  be  taken  care  of,  rents  and  dividends  col 
lected,  and  all  to  wait  that  time,  for  any  claim  that  might 
arise  ;  failing  which,  it  was  then  to  be  devoted  to  certain 
specified  public  uses. 

Rintheroote  was  exercised  to  conjecture  what  that  pos 
sible  claim  might  be.  A  secret  marriage,  —  a  child,  — 
half  a  dozen  children,  perhaps,  adrift  somewhere,  liable  to 
turn  up  ? 

Rufus  Abell  held  his  peace ;  indeed,  he  had  nothing 
else  to  hold  ;  the  will  registered,  and  open  to  any  reading, 
only  said  just  that  :  "  For  any  claim  upon  said  estate  that 
may  legally  and  within  that  time  arise." 


368  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

But  Rufus  Abell  did  call  one  day.  The  mortgage-debt 
was  falling  due,  and  the  garden-lot  would  have  to  be  sold. 

This  was  how  it  was  with  the  Whapshares  at  the  time 
the  queer  thing  happened  which  nobody  will  believe,  and 
which  Mrs.  Eylett  Bright  will  tell  of  in  the  next  chapter. 


IV. 

HOW  THE    GHOST    MANAGED.  —  MRS.    EYLETT   BRIGHl's 
STORY. 

My  dear,  I  will  tell  yon  all  about  it.  It  was  a  haunted 
house.  It  was  all  explained  by  simple  causes,  —  yes  ; 
but  it  was  a  haunted  house,  nevertheless.  It  is  a  haunted 
world  we  live  in,  for  that  matter,  Dora  Button. 

You  see  there  are  so  many  of  us,  —  so  many  little 
Eylett  Brights  ;  I  like  to  call  them  by  their  whole  pat 
ronymic,  it  suits  them  so  well,  Button,  dear. 

We  all  needed  the  country  that  summer.  I  was  run 
down  with  change  of  servants,  and  nursing ;  little  Thode 
had  just  crept  out  of  scarlet  fever,  with  the  tattered  shreds 
of  his  dear  little  mortality  about  him,  wanting  all  sorts  of 
patching  up  ;  and  the  other  children  had  had  it  too,  more 
or  less  ;  mostly  less,  thank  the  good  Providence !  We  all 
needed  the  country,  —  doctor  said  we  must  have  it ;  but 
there  was  Eylett  tied  down  to  his  desk,  and  the  two  thou 
sand  was  n't  any  bigger  for  us  this  year  than  ever  before. 

The  country  is  so  wide  and  free  ;  and  yet  it  is  so  hard 
to  get  a  place  in  it,  —  a  place  for  ever  so  many  little  Ey 
lett  Brights  ! 

We  wanted  a  large  house,  and  we  wanted  it  furnished  ; 
there  must  be  plenty  of  out-of-doors,  and  yet  we  did  not 
want  a  "  place  "  that  would  have  to  be  kept  up.  People 
who  were  going  to  Europe,  and  had  out-of-town  residences 


ZERUB   THROOP'S  EXPERIMENT.        369 

to  leave,  must  leave  them  to  their  own  sort,  you  know ; 
carriage  and  lawn  and  garden  people,  who  would  have 
gardeners  and  grooms.  It  was  as  much  as  ever  we  could 
do  to  have  Onie  and  Ann.  More  ;  for  they  were  hoth 
going  to  leave.  They  had  objections  to  the  country.  So 
we  got  Margaret  and  Ellen  from  the  intelligence  office,  — 
the  same  article,  you  know,  with  a  new  label ;  and  there 
is  n't  much  variety  in  the  labels,  either.  It  is  wonderful 
how  we  have  rung  over  the  changes,  —  Margaret,  and 
Katy,  and  Ann  ;  Bridget,  and  Ann,  and  Katy  ;  Bridget, 
and  Margaret,  and  Ellen ;  and  how  natural  and  of  course 
the  name  sounds,  whichever  it  is,  when  they  tell  it ;  and 
how  the  impression  of  the  whole  successive  multitude 
drifts  and  runs  together  in  our  minds  into  the  image  of 
one  great,  awful,  representative  —  kitchen  creature  ! 

Well,  we  searched  the  papers,  and  we  searched  the 
country ;  we  had  spent  fifteen  dollars  before  we  knew  it, 
running  out  and  in  to  see  things,  and  conclude  they 
would  n't  do.  So  we  kept  quiet  a  while,  and  almost  gave 
it  up.  Eylett  said  we  might  hit  upon  something  by  and 
by,  when  somebody's  house  was  left  on  their  hands,  too 
late  for  a  high  rent  or  a  whole  season.  I  did  n't  see  how, 
though.  I  told  him  it  would  have  to  come  and  hit  upon 
us  ;  we  could  n't  afford  to  go  after  it  any  more. 

Things  do  come  and  hit  you  if  you  only  stand  still  be 
cause  you  must,  —  not  because  you  're  lazy. 

One  day,  at  the  counting-room,  Mr.  Haughton  was  ask 
ing  Eylett  after  his  family.  Eylett  told  him  he  was  get 
ting  along ;  but  they  needed  a  change,  and  it  was  not  easy 
to  make  a  plan  that  would  suit  in  all  ways. 

>k  Take  a  house  a  little  way  out  of  town,"  said  Mr. 
Haughton. 

"  I  've  been  trying  to,"  said  Eylett,  "  but  the  house  I 
want  does  n't  seem  to  be  anywhere." 


370  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

One  of  the  boys  came  in  from  the  bank  just  then  and 
heard  it. 

"  I  know  of  a  house,  Mr.  Bright,"  he  said  ;  "  but  it 's 
rather  a  queer  one,  up  over  the  hill,  out  of  our  village ; 
and  to  let  cheap,  I  guess,  —  old  Zerub  Throop's.  He  's 
dead,  and  things  are  n't  to  be  touched  for  five  years.  But 
the  house  can  be  hired  just  as  it  is,  if  anybody  likes.  It 
is  a  jolly  big  one,  and  an  old  garden  and  fields  all  round 
it.  Why  don't  you  come  out  and  see  it  ?  " 

Eylett  guessed  he  would. 

And  so  one  day  we  went  out  to  Rintheroote. 

Why,  you  see  it  was  splendid  !  All  that  great  hill,  and 
the  sunrise  on  one  side,  and  the  sunset  on  the  other  !  But, 
as  to  the  house,  it  seemed  as  if  the  day  had  always  had  to 
climb  over  and  round  it,  and  had  never  shone  through  it. 
Such  a  musty,  shady,  lo-from-the-tombs  old  place  you 
never  got  into !  The  front  door  was  all  grown  up  with 
weeds  and  vines.  It  was  tall  and  narrow,  with  an  old- 
fashioned  fan-light  over  it.  It  looked  as  if  nothing  had 
ever  gone  in  and  out  but  coffins,  I  told  Eylett. 

We  found  a  woman  in  the  village  who  had  kept  house 
there ;  and  she  went  up  with  us,  and  showed  it. 

"  It 's  in  good  order,"  she  said  ;  "  the  front  part 's 
clean,  because  it  ain't  never  been  dirtied ;  and  the  back 
part 's  clean,  because  I  done  the  scrubbin'." 

There  was  one  real  lovely  room  across  the  ell,  up-stairs, 
at  the  end.  Four  windows,  —  east,  south,  and  west,  — 
the  sun  and  the  soft  wind  just  rioting  through. 

"  O  Eylett !  "  I  cried,  standing  in  the  middle,  "  here's 
the  summer-time  and  the  beauty  !  Here  's  the  life  of  the 
house!  " 

"  Yes  'm,"  said  Mrs.  Hand,  "  here  's  where  't  was.  But 
I  '11  tell  you  one  thing :  't  ain't  more  'n  fair  to  let  you 
know.  I  don't  believe  it 's  ah1  gone  out  of  it.  /  don't  be 
lieve,  in  my  soul,  Zerub 's  done  with  it !  " 


ZERUB   THROOP'S  EXPERIMENT.        371 

She  spoke  in  a  hushed  way,  as  if  there  might  be  some 
one  listening. 

"  Done  with  it  ?     He 's  dead !  " 

"  Yes  'm  ;  that 's  just  why  you  can't  tell.  I  stayed  here 
a  month  afterwards,  and  I  had  —  well,  experiences.  If  I 
was  you,  I  'd  shet  it  up." 

"  Shut  it  up !     I  shall  put  the  children  into  it." 

"  That  may  do.     Maybe  he  '11  quit,  then." 

I  had  my  doubts  about  that  conclusion,  if  I  had  n't 
about  the  ghost.  I  could  n't  think,  if  he  wanted  to  come 
at  all,  that  old  Zerub,  or  any  other  rational  spirit,  would 
come  back  the  less  for,  —  you  need  n't  laugh,  Button  ;  I 
don't  care  if  they  are  mine ! 

"  See  here,  my  good  woman !  "  says  Eylett,  turning 
round  sharp,  "  I  can't  come  here  if  my  servants  and  chil 
dren  are  to  get  hold  of  this  nonsense.  Has  it  been  talked 
round  in  the  village  ?  " 

"  Not  from  me ;  I  've  held  my  tongue  too  long  for 
Zerub  to  begin  chattering  now.  I  always  left  all  his 
affairs  to  hisself,  an'  I  do  yit.  But  this  is  your  affair, 
kinder,  if  you  're  comin'.  I  jest  eased  my  mind." 

"It  shall  be  the  play-room,  —  the  day-nursery,"  I  re 
peated,  ignoring  the  nonsense  once  and  forever.  "  And 
here,"  said  I,  going  back  into  a  small  adjoining  chamber, 
"  I  '11  have  my  sewing-machine  and  my  writing-desk,  and 
all  my  little  things  and  doings  that  I  want  close  by  the 
children,  but  not  mixed  up  and  crowded  with  them.  We 
can  be  grand  here,  Eylett.  There  is  no  end  of  room.  As 
to  those  front  parlors  and  bedrooms,  we  '11  fasten  back 
every  blind,  and  fling  up  every  window,  and  let  June  do 
the  rest.  We  '11  come,  Eylett,  won't  we  ?  "  I  concluded 
after  my  wife-fashion,  —  a  decision  first,  and  a  question 
afterward. 

So   we   went  down  into   Rintheroote,   and  found   Mr. 


372  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

Rufus  Abell,  the  agent ;  and  Eylett  put  in  the  ghost  story 
in  the  way  of  business,  and  got  off  fifty  dollars  for  that; 
though  I  told  him  men  always  came  out  with  the  very 
thing  they  did  n't  want  mentioned  ;  and  we  took  the  house 
for  three  hundred  and  fifty  dollars,  and  could  stay  the 
season,  —  three  months,  or  six,  as  we  had  a  mind. 

But  we  were  not  to  ask  to  have  the  first  thing  done  for 
us,  and  we  were  to  alter  nothing  ourselves.  These  were 
the  conditions. 

We  had  a  splendid  time  moving.  You  know  I  don't 
mind  trouble  ;  and  the  children  were  as  gay  as  larks.  We 
did  n't  have  much  to  move,  either ;  only  our  clothes,  and 
the  few  things  we  could  n't  live  without,  and  to  send  the 
rest  right  off  to  a  store-room  ;  for  we  gave  up  our  house 
in  town,  of  course. 

Margaret  and  Ellen  gave  warning  the  second  morning 
after  we  got  there  ;  that  we  expected.  All  we  hoped  for 
from  them  was  to  get  through  the  flitting ;  though  how 
they  could,  with  the  sun  shining  as  it  did,  and  the  clover 
smelling,  and  the  birds  singing,  I  don't  see.  I  should  as 
soon  have  given  warning  in  heaven,  —  as,  to  be  sure,  I 
suppose  some  folks  will! 

Well,  we  did  n't  care.  It  was  all  fun  ;  nobody  was  going 
to  call.  I  could  just  put  on  a  calico  wrapper,  —  keep  it  on, 
I  mean,  —  and  take  right  hold,  if  it  came  to  that ;  and  we 
set  Mrs.  Hand  to  inquiring  for  us  in  the  village.  In  result 
of  which,  after  three  days  of  the  "  warning,"  and  three 
days  more  of  the  "  week  "  that  they  would  n't  stay,  and 
hardly  ever  will,  and  you  hardly  ever  care  to  have  them, 
since  the  days  of  warning  are  in  themselves  so  like  the 
days  of  doom  ;  and  after  yet  three  other  days  of  expecta 
tion  and  hard  work,  and  baker's  bread,  there  came  to 
"our  ha'  door,"  and  when  that  was  opened  into  the 
best  —  I  mean  the  dingiest  —  parlor,  a  —  well  —  these 
presents : — 


ZERUB   THROOP1  S  EXPERIMENT.        373 

A  hat  and  feather,  —  that  is,  a  very  remarkahle  and 
exaggerated  piece  of  a  bird,  that  was  neither  wing,  tail, 
nor  breast,  but  enough  of  it  for  all  three,  attached  mys 
teriously  to  the  middle  of  a  forehead  ;  an  emphatic  chignon, 
a  very  much  fluted  and  hitched-up  alpaca  overskirt,  and  a 
pair  of  tall-heeled  boots,  on  which  all  the  rest  walked  in. 

What  else  should  have  come,  unless,  indeed,  it  had  hap 
pened  to  be  a  man  ?  These,  you  know,  are  the  things  which 
stand  for  a  woman  nowadays,  and  make  up  the  general 
presentment  and  expression  of  her,  confounding  distinc 
tions  ;  so  that  the  pieces  of  a  woman  in  the  windows  of 
the  great  furnishing  shops,  "  articulated  "  on  wires,  hint 
out  something  rather  superior,  on  the  whole,  to  most  of 
the  specimens  which  articulate  themselves,  and  are  seen 
about  the  streets. 

The  "  articulation,"  in  this  instance,  announced  herself 
to  me,  looking  at  her  with  a  puzzle  and  a  question  in  my 
face,  as  "  a  girl."  An  American  girl  she  was,  too ;  no 
Irish,  we  found  out  gradually,  would  apply.  Although 
Sarah  Hand  had  been  reticent,  Terence  Muldoon  —  who 
chored,  and  chopped  wood,  and  "  fought  and  carried  "  for 
old  Mr.  Zerubbabel  Throop,  and  who  stayed  by  to  "  garrud 
the  hoose,"  with  Mrs.  Hand,  during  the  month  of  her 
closing-up  services  and  administration  —  had  not  been  so  ; 
and  there  were  vague  and  terrible  rumors  afloat  in  the 
Irish  stratum  of  society,  and  the  universal  Irish  mind  was 
set  against  the  "  owld  Throop  place  an'  its  divilments." 
This  came  to  us  by  degrees,  as  our  own  experience 
developed. 

"  I  'in  the  girl,"  said  the  articulation,  "  that  Mis'  Hand 
was  to  look  up.  She  's  my  Aunt  Sarah.  I  'm  a  dasher." 

"  You  're  a  —  what  ?  "  said  I,  explosively,  in  my  astonish 
ment. 

"  A  dasher :  —  a  dasher  down." 


374  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

I  just  stared.  I  began  to  think  she  must  be  a  lunatic. 
And  a  lunatic  who  announced  herself  as  a  dasher  down 
might  not  be  the  subject  of  a  form  of  hallucination  one 
would  like  to  have  illustrated  in  one's  parlor. 

But  while  I  stared,  she  added  mildly,  "  That 's  my 
name." 

"  Oh !  "  said  I,  relieved,  and  catching  my  breath.  "  Just 
spell  it,  if  you  please." 

"  A,d,a,s,h,a  —  Adasha ;  D,o,w,n,e  —  Downe  ;  Adasha 
Downe." 

"  Thank  you.  It  sounds  rather  terrific,  you  see,  before 
one  knows,  especially  for  a  person  who  is  to  handle  cups 
and  saucers." 

Adasha  gave  a  bright  look  out  of  her  eyes  without  mov 
ing  a  muscle  of  her  very  round,  and  very  large,  and  very 
solid  face. 

"  There  's  many  a  one  gets  a  name,  you  know,  for  a 
thing  they  never  did."  Then  she  smiled  widely.  She 
could  not  help  it ;  she  must  do  it  widely,  if  she  smiled  at 
all.  It  took  very  little  exertion,  and  but  slight  play  of  her 
lips  ;  for  her  lips  were  ample,  and  behind  them  were  white 
teeth  that  needed  generous  accommodation. 

I  liked  the  smile  and  the  bright  look.  I  began  to  think 
of  engaging  her ;  up  to  that  moment  I  had  only  thought 
how  to  get  rid  of  her.  I  asked  her  if  she  could  make 
bread  and  hop-yeast ;  if  she  could  wash  and  iron  ;  and  if 
she  would  do  anything  else  that  I  might  ask  of  her,  and 
tell  her  how. 

She  could  and  she  would. 

"  Will  you  take  off  your  things  and  stay  now  ?  " 

"  Well,  ma'am,  you  see,  in  my  suit  and  my  heeled  boots 
and  my  hair,  I  don't  really  see  how  I  could.  But  1 11  get 
a  bag  o'  clo'es,  and  come  back  in  half  an  hour." 

"  Very  well." 


ZERUB    THROOP'S   EXPERIMENT.        375 

She  did.     And  so  we  had  Aclasha  Downe. 

That  was  all  we  had  ;  and  we  found  it  was  all  we  had 
to  hope  for.  For  love,  nor  money,  nor  for  Christian  char 
ity,  we  could  get  no  soul  to  offer  or  consent.  We  tried 
for  three  weeks  ;  and  then  we  settled  down,  until  the  pre 
judice  should  wear  away,  to  a  plan  that  we  fitted  to  the 
case.  A  hoy  to  do  chores,  and  a  woman  to  come  three 
times  a  week,  and  wash  and  iron  and  scrub.  Then,  with 
all  the  children,  and  their  summer  liberty,  on  my  hands, 
I  thought  of  another  expediency,  —  a  young  girl  as  a 
sort  of  governess-companion,  who  might  keep  them  up  in 
their  A-B-C,  and  their  tables,  tell  them  which  side  of  the 
world  they  were  on,  and  a  few  preliminary  items  of  like 
importance ;  sew  on  a  string  or  a  button  now  and  then, 
and  help  me  in  such  tilings  as  I  daily  put  my  practical 
hands  to. 

We  found  her ;  she  was  foreordained. 

Do  you  remember  little  Car  Whapshare,  the  youngest 
girl  at  dear  old  Cradley  School  the  last  year  we  were 
there  ?  She  lives  right  here  in  Rintheroote  ;  and  she  had 
kept  school  until  she  had  n't  much  face  left ;  though  what 
she  had  still  kept  the  pretty  in  it,  as  the  child's  barley-sugar 
keeps  the  clear  and  the  sweet  down  to  the  last  thin  needle 
of  identity.  She  was  engaged  to  marry  —  in  this  life  or  in 
the  life  everlasting  —  a  splendid  fellow,  the  young  doctor 
of  the  place.  But  the  old  doctor  would  n't  let  go,  and  the 
old  patients  would  n't  change  ;  and  so  he  was  getting  — 
excellent  practice  and  very  limited  pay  ;  and  Car's  mother 
was  poor.  And  that 's  the  way  things  were  with  them  ; 
and  they  could  n't  be  much  more  wayward. 

Arthur  Plaice — her  doctor  —  said  she  must  give  up 
teaching,  for  all  summer  at  least.  She  was  in  a  worry. 
But  then,  there  was  I  in  a  worry  too,  up  there  on  the 
hill ;  and  the  worries  of  the  world  do,  once  in  a  while, 


376  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

when  the  right  ones  are  thrown  together,  turn  suddenly, 
by  the  beautiful  chemistry  of  things,  into  a  blessed  mutual 
content. 

Car  Whapshare  came  to  live  with  us  all  summer. 

And  it  was  just  after  she  came,  mind  you,  that  the  signs 
and  wonders  began. 

How  we  three  —  Car,  Adasha,  and  I  —  did  work,  let 
ting  the  besieging  pleasantness  into  that  old  house ! 
Adasha,  cleared  for  action,  without  her  heeled  boots  and 
her  hair,  —  that  is,  with  only  a  reasonable  amount  that 
you  might  believe  in,  gathered  up  with  a  screw  and  a 
double  behind,  and  fastened  with  a  rubber-comb,  —  with 
out  any  humps  or  hitchups,  —  turned  suddenly  into  an  in 
dividual.  That  was  a  refreshment  and  a  confidence.  I 
suppose  there  is  a  beauty  of  "  the  all,"  —  Emerson  says 
so ;  but  you  do  want  eaches ;  the  world  will  never  make 
up  the  nicest  kind  of  total  by  rubbing  out  its  units. 

We  could  not  alter ;  but  we  could  innovate  and  reno 
vate.  We  rolled  back  the  heavy  worsted  damask  curtains 
on  their  old-fashioned  gilded  poles,  threw  wide  the  blinds, 
and  let  the  summer  in.  We  turned  the  musty  old  chairs 
and  sofas  out  on  the  grass ;  we  cut  away  the  thorn- 
branches,  and  the  twisted  stems  of  creepers,  from  the 
choked-up  porch ;  and  we  left  the  high,  narrow  door  open 
all  day  long,  so  that  a  column  of  sunshine  poured  itself 
through  that  way  in  the  morning,  and  bars  of  gold  shot 
slanting  across  from  the  windows  of  the  south  parlor 
through  the  noontime.  When  the  house  was  sweetened 
full  of  it,  we  began  to  shut  the  green  blinds  again  in  the 
mid-day,  and  only  leave  the  air  to  filter  in  from  over  sun- 
basked  fields  and  tops  of  clover. 

"  We  '11  drive  the  ghosts  out,"  I  said,  gayly. 

"  They  '11  be  driv'  out  or  stirred  up,"  said  Adasha 
Downe.  "  I  don't  s'pose  we  can  tell  which  till  we  've 
tried." 


ZERUB    THROOP' S   EXPERIMENT.         377 

Mrs.  Hand  came  up  several  times  to  see  us.  Partly 
because  of  her  niece  ;  partly  because  of  the  cat,  which  was 
her  charge,  but  which  she  could  not  coax  away  with  her ; 
and  partly  to  ask  me  privately  every  time,  and  with  solemn 
emphasis,  just  before  she  went  away,  "if  we  had  noticed 
anything." 

"  Nothing,"  I  told  her  at  last,  "  but  that  black  cat. 
She  haunts  the  house.  There  's  something  awful  about 
her.  She  steals  round  everywhere,  like  an  uneasy  spirit ; 
but  she  won't  come  in  and  be  tame.  I  have  met  her  in 
the  rooms  and  on  the  stairs  ;  but  the  minute  she  sees  any 
body,  she  's  off  like  a  black  rocket,  with  her  tail  straight 
up  in  the  air,  and  as  big !  The  children  have  found  a 
kitten  ;  they  pet  that,  and  the  old  cat  stands  away  off  and 
watches.  She  is  like  a  human  mother  that  lets  her  child 
be  taken  in  where  she  does  n't  feel  willing  or  worthy  to 
go.  She  behaves  like  a  bad  conscience." 

"  Zerub  Throop  had  n't  a  bad  conscience.  He  war  n't 
givin',  nor  he  war  n't  pious  ;  but  he  was  a  real  righteous 
pertickeller  man." 

"  I  never  thought  of  Mr.  Throop,  Mrs.  Hand.  I  was 
speaking  of  the  cat." 

"  All  the  same.  She  's  in  it.  She  knows,"  said  Mrs. 
Hand,  impressively. 

"  Cats  are  signful  creaturs,  about  weather,  an'  sickness, 
an'  sech ;  an'  they  have  a  feelin'  for  other-world  things, 
too,  you  may  depend  they  do.  They  see  in  the  dark. 
What  does  that  mean  ?  It  jest  corresponds.  Do  you 
know  how  hard  it  is  to  keep  a  cat  out  of  a  dyin'  room,  or 
where  a  corpse  is  ?  You  jest  wait  and  notice." 

"  Oh,  for  mercy's  sake,  don't !  "  I  cried  out,  almost 
with  a  shriek. 

The  woman  was  growing  ghastly. 

"  La !     I  did  n't  mean   anything.     Like  as  not  you  11 


378  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

never  have  a  chance.  But  that 's  a  fact.  It 's  the  reason 
why  they  stay  round  places  so.  Everything  is  n't  gone, 
and  they  know  it.  Why,  live  folks  leaves  something  of 
theirselves  in  the  places  where  they  've  heen  and  acted. 
Now,  whenever  I  heerd  them  noises,  that  cat  was  alwers 
yowlin'  alongside,  —  way  off,  maybe,  or  even  afterwards  ; 
but  she  always  jined  in  —  or  Amenned." 

"  Mrs.  Hand,  what  were  the  noises  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  Kind  of  stirrins,  —  soundins  ;  every 
where  to  once,  distant  and  down-like,  but  strugglin'  an' 
risin'  up.  I  can't  tell  you  what  they  were  ;  but  the  old 
house  seemed  all  breathin'  alive  with  'em,  as  if  they  might 
bust  out  anywheres.  I  '11  tell  you  what  I  think.  If  ever 
you  hear  anything,  you  '11  hear  more.  It  seemed  to  me 
as  if  't  was  only  a  kind  of  gettin'  ready,  a-gropin'  out. 
You  wait  and  notice." 

"  If  only  you  would  n't  please  say  that !  "  cried  I,  ner 
vously.  The  words  were  growing  awful  to  me.  And 
then  I  laughed  at  myself  for  minding  them,  or  any  of  it, 
as  I  bade  Mrs.  Hand  good-morning  at  that  pleasant  east 
side-door,  opening  out  into  the  warm,  living  breath  and 
glory  of  the  perfect  June  day. 

Well,  the  children  had  their  games  all  day  long ;  their 
blocks  and  their  baby-house,  their  tea-parties  and  their 
soap-bubbles,  in  the  bright  ell-chamber  ;  and  they  played 
horse,  driving  each  other  with  gay,  knitted  harness  and 
reins,  up  and  down  the  long  passages  of  the  old  house ; 
and  they  went  to  bed  at  night  in  the  west  rooms,  back  of 
ours,  where  the  twilight  lingered  till  they  were  fast  asleep ; 
and  I  said  to  myself,  "  They  take  up  all  the  time,  and 
they  fill  the  house  full ;  what  else  —  if  there  were  anything 
—  could  creep  in  ?  Their  little  plays,  and  their  little 
prayers,  and  their  little  dreams,  and  their  sweet  sleeping 
breath,  —  why,  it 's  a  home  now,  brimming  over  with 


ZERUB    THE  OOP'S  EXPERIMENT.        379 

them.  Bad  vapors  could  n't  come  up  through  the  fair, 
full  fountain." 

And  so,  after  the  happy,  tired  day,  I  went  to  sleep 
myself,  and  slept  as  having  angels  about  me. 

There  was  one  thing  we  had  to  do  to  that  ell-chamber. 
We  had  to  take  the  door  down.  It  was  a  modern  door, 
put  up  since  Mr.  Throop  came  ;  and  it  lifted  off  its  hinges. 
The  reason  we  could  not  have  it  on  was,  that  it  shut  with 
a  horrid  spring-lock.  We  couldn't  have  the  children 
getting  shut  in  there  every  day,  and  having  to  be  taken 
down  outside,  you  know,  with  ladders. 

Eylett  and  I  had  the  northwest  front  bedroom.  There 
were  two  large  rooms,  and  a  little  one  tucked  in  between, 
on  each  side  the  hall  in  the  main  house  ;  then  the  long  ell 
ran  back,  and  there  were  three  or  four  in  that,  besides  the 
attics.  Caroline  Whapshare  slept  in  the  large  one  back, 
on  the  southeast  side,  and  the  children,  as  I  said,  were  in 
the  rooms  behind  ours.  Nobody  slept  in  the  ell.  Adasha 
Downe  had  the  little  room  next  to  Miss  Whapshare's. 

Somehow,  in  the  great  rambling  place,  we  did  like  to 
keep  all  together  at  night.  There  would  be  thunder- 
showers,  and  there  might  be  burglars  ;  nobody  believed  in 
anything  else  or  farther  off.  The  children  never  heard  a 
word.  I  found  I  could  really  trust  Adasha  Downe. 

Whether  it  was  the  fatigue  that  gave  us  such  sound 
nights,  or  whether  there  never  was  anything  to  wake  us 
up  until  the  night  I  am  going  to  tell  of,  I  don't  know  ;  but 
so  it  was,  that,  for  a  week  or  two  after  my  talk  with  Sarah 
Pland,  we  might  have  been  the  builders  and  first  dwellers 
at  Throop  Hill,  for  all  sign  we  had  from  the  "  soul  of 
things  "  in  its  old  timbers  or  out  from  its  far  corners. 

Then,  all  at  once,  something  happened. 

I  had  gone  to  bed  one  evening  at  ten,  and  had  had  my 
first  two  hours'  nap.  Suddenly  I  sat  up,  wide  awake. 


380  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

Something  crashed  me  awake  ;  a  great  resounding  came 
with  me  out  of  my  dream  ;  and  I  listened  mentally  in  as 
great  an  outward  silence,  to  hear  what  it  had  been  like. 

A  ringing,  clattering,  metallic  sound,  as  if  a  tin-man's 
cart  had  been  upset  outside,  or  a  great  sheet  of  thin  iron 
been  shaken  or  struck  upon  somewhere  in  the  house. 

Had  I  heard  it  ?  or  was  it  only  that  all  my  nerves  had 
suddenly  vibrated  with  some  tingling  shock,  and  waked 
me  with  a  feeling  of  such  sound  ?  It  was  "  all  over 
everywhere,"  as  Mrs.  Hand  had  expressed  it ;  either  all 
over  me,  or  —  creation  perhaps. 

Why  did  not  everybody  in  the  house  wake  up  ? 

While  I  held  my  breath  and  wondered,  it  came  again. 
Now  I  knew  that  I  heard  it  with  my  bodily  ears.  But 
what  I  heard,  I  could  neither  conceive  nor  tell. 

"  My  gracious,  Eylett !  what  was  that  noise  ?  " 

I  had  my  hand  tight  upon  my  husband's  shoulder.  But 
Eylett  was  lying  on  his  right  side  ;  and  he  could  not  hear 
with  his  left  ear. 

"  Noise  ?  I  don't  hear  any.  Let  me  move.  Let  me 
get  my  good  ear  up.  What  was  it  like  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  Like  a  ringing,  or  scraping,  —  a  rattling, 
a  reverberating,  —  crashing,  and  hollow,  far  off  and  all 
round.  In  the  air.  As  if  the  house  was  a  Chinese  gong, 
and  somebody  was  trampling  in  the  middle  of  it." 

"  All  that  ?     Pooh  !     You  've  been  dreaming." 

"  No,  I  have  n't.  I  've  been  sitting  straight  up  with 
my  eyes  open." 

We  both  sat  straight  up  for  ten  minutes,  and  in  those 
ten  minutes  everything  was  deadly  still.  At  the  end  of 
them,  we  heard  a  cat's  dolorous  cry,  away  off,  down  be 
low,  somewhere. 

''  How  can  that  cat  have  got  in  ?  " 

"  She  is  n't  in  ;  she  's  under  the  piazza,  probably.     She 


ZERUB    THR OOP'S    EXPERIMENT.         381 

does  go  there.  You  'd  better  go  to  sleep,  Lizzie."  And 
Eylett  laid  himself  down  again,  as  men  do  when  there 
is  n't  a  fire  nor  anybody  to  shoot. 

I  knew  I  had  better  go  to  sleep  ;  but  I  did  n't  for  two 
good  hours.  By  that  time,  I  could  hardly  have  declared 
that  I  had  heard  anything,  it  was  so  long  ago,  and  I  had 
so  studied  my  impression  to  pieces,  trying  to  match  it  to 
any  possibility  of  causation. 

Of  course,  Eylett  laughed  at  me  in  the  morning  ;  and 
of  course,  I  let  him  laugh,  and  did  n't  say  anything  till  he 
got  through.  Women  never  do.  Only  when  I  thought 
he  had  had  it  out  reasonably,  I  hushed  him  up  as  re 
garded  the  rest  of  the  family.  ';  Don't  talk  about  it  down 
stairs,"  I  said. 

He  thought  I  wanted  to  be  let  alone  on  my  own  ac 
count.  It  was  not  that.  I  wanted  the  fact  let  alone.  If 
it  was  not  a  noise,  it  Avas  an  experience.  That  was  what 
Mrs.  Hand  had  called  it.  If  you  have  the  experience, 
what  difference  does  the  noise,  or  whatever  else  it  may  be, 
make,  one  way  or  the  other  ? 

The  next  night  I  went  to  bed  in  a  perfectly  calm  and 
equable  state  of  mind.  I  can  positively  affirm  that  I  ex 
pected  nothing  except  to  sleep.  And  I  did  sleep,  as  I 
always  do,  instantly  and  soundly,  after  my  little  read, 
which  I  always  indulge  in  at  night,  with  a  candle  on  my 
small  book-table  beside  my  bed,  in  defiance  of  all  old- 
time  superstitions  handed  down  from  the  days  of  volumi 
nous  bed-curtains  and  top-hamper,  and  absurdly  repeated 
now,  when  we  lie  down  on  our  flat  mattresses  in  their  low 
French  boxes,  with  nothing  combustible  within  a  yard  of 
the  light. 

I  slept  my  three  or  four  early  hours.  I  am  glad  they 
are  the  hours  of  "  beauty-sleep  ;  "  for  they  are  the  only 
hours  I  am  perfectly  sure  of.  After  that,  I  begin  to  nap 


382  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

and  dream,  to  wake,  and  think  of  things,  —  the  beans  I 
meant  to  have  told  Adasha  to  put  to  soak,  the  jam  that 
must  be  scalded  over,  the  twist  and  buttons  to  be  got 
for  the  tailoress  who  is  coming  Thursday ;  then,  being 
thoroughly  roused,  to  go  round  and  regulate  open  win 
dows,  and  cover  up  the  children. 

It  was,  perhaps,  about  two  o'clock  when  I  was  again 
electrified  into  full  and  instant  consciousness.  The  same 
reverberating,  radiating  noise,  ringing,  rattling,  metallic, 
with  a  queer  sound  of  struggle  in  it,  too,  that  suggested 
Pandemonium  as  one  great  tin  kettle,  and  all  the  little 
imps  clawing  frantically  to  get  out. 

Then  there  came  a  bang.  That  woke  Eylett.  Neither 
of  us  said  a  word,  but  both  were  instantly  out  of  bed  and 
into  dressing-gown  and  slippers. 

We  went  into  the  great  upper  hall,  and  stood  still. 
Everything  else  stood  still,  too.  We  could  hear  the  old 
Willard  clock  ticking  away  composedly  down  in  the 
dining-room,  and  not  a  breath  or  movement  of  anything 
else. 

We  went  on,  down  between  the  rooms  ;  as  we  went, 
there  came  winding  up  from  somewhere,  the  eerie,  weary, 
wandering  wail  of  that  uncanny  cat. 

Two  doors  moved  their  open  cracks  a  little  as  we 
passed,  and  two  noses  were  put  forth. 

"  Marm  !  Sir  !  "  cried  Adasha  Downe,  in  a  tremulous 
whisper,  "  what  was  that  racket  ?  " 

"  What  can  have  happened?  "  said  Car  Whapshare. 

"  Don't  wake  the  children,"  whispered  I.  "  We  are 
going  to  see." 

We  went  everywhere  ;  up  and  down  all  the  stairs,  into 
the  kitchen  and  pantries  and  out-rooms.  We  opened  the 
side-door  and  looked  out  into  the  starlight.  Something 
black  dashed  out  between  Eylett's  legs. 


ZERUB    THR  OOP'S   EXPERIMENT.        383 

"  I  told  you  that  cat  was  in,"  said  I. 

"  Well,  she  's  out,"  replied  Eylett.  "  She  could  n't  have 
done  it." 

We  found  nothing  to  account  for  the  clatter,  not  even 
a  dipper  or  tin  pan  fallen  down. 

We  went  up-stairs  again,  and  encountered  the  noses 
waiting. 

"  What  was  it  ?  "  came  the  two  whispers  again. 

"  It  does  n't  seem  to  have  been  anything,"  answered 
Eylett. 

"Marm!"  said  Adasha  Downe,  breathlessly,  "that's 
awful !  " 

"  Xo,  it  is  n't,"  I  retorted,  with  decision.  "  It 's  quite 
comfortable.  Don't  frighten  the  children." 

In  the  morning  I  was  dressed  early,  and  went  through 
the  rooms  up-stairs  with  a  vague  feeling  as  if  I  might  see 
by  daylight  where  the  sound  had  been. 

There  was  a  tin  horse  on  the  entry  floor,  lying  peaceably 
upon  its  side,  with  that  touchingly  helpless  and  resigned 
expression  that  children's  dolls  and  horses  have  in  the  cast- 
off  positions  in  which  little  hands  have  left  them ;  there 
was  the  usual  litter  of  blocks  and  toys  in  the  play-room, 
but  nothing  seemed  as  though  it  had  borne  part  in  any 
mystical  orgie.  The  summer  sun  streamed  in,  and  filled 
the  chambers  to  the  brim  with  cheer  and  splendor. 

Coming  out  of  the  ell-room,  I  noticed  the  register-valve 
slipped  slightly  out  of  its  place,  and  resting  with  one  edge 
just  over  upon  the  floor.  I  pushed  it  back,  and  wondered 
who  had  moved  it.  I  supposed  Adasha  must  have  lifted 
it  out,  in  sweeping,  to  brush  the  dust  from  the  spreading 
mouth  of  the  pipe.  I  mentioned  it  to  her  when  I  went 
down-stairs,  and  asked  her  to  be  careful.  It  would  not  do 
for  the  children  to  get  an  idea  of  its  coming  off.  Adasha 
told  me  she  had  not  "tetched"  it.  She  didn't  know  it 


384  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

would  come  off.  It  was  queer  ;  but  I  supposed  it  "  hap 
pened  "  somehow,  and  then  I  forgot  all  about  it. 

We  had  two  still  nights,  and  then  in  the  third  a  rattle 
and  a  slam  woke  me  up.  I  missed  the  reverberation,  if  it 
had  occurred.  In  fact,  I  did  not  connect  this  with  the 
other.  It  sounded  like  some  one  fumbling  at  a  blind  or 
lock,  and  then  a  sudden  jar,  as  of  blind  or  door  flung  back. 

"  It 's  burglars  this  time  !  "  I  whispered  loudly  in  Ey- 
lett's  ear.  "  I  heard  them  trying  something,  and  then  it 
banged." 

"  Burglars  don't  bang,"  said  Eylett,  sleepily. 

"  There  is  n't  any  wind,  and  things  don't  bang  them 
selves,"  said  I.  "  You  'd  better  get  up." 

So  we  had  another  promenade.  It  came  to  nothing, 
like  the  rest. 

"  Are  we  never  to  get  any  sleep  in  this  house?  "  asked 
Eylett,  in  a  melancholy  way.  "  Don't  hear  anything 
more,  Lizzie,  if  you  can  help  it." 

"  No,  I  won't,"  I  replied,  dutifully,  keeping  the  rest  of 
my  thoughts  to  myself. 

In  the  morning,  before  I  went  down  the  back  stairs  to 
the  kitchen  to  look  after  breakfast,  stopping  at  the  play 
room,  as  I  had  a  habit  of  doing,  drawn  by  the  pleasant 
ness  of  the  place,  where  the  children  had  been  yesterday 
and  were  going  to  be  to-day,  and  taking  a  glance  at  the 
sunshine  and  the  toys  that  seemed  conspiring  a  good  time 
together,  I  saw  that  register  off  again,  —  really  off,  this 
time,  an  inch  or  two. 

Could  it  have  been  that  which  banged  in  the  night !  I 
went  back  and  called  Eylett. 

"Just  look!"  said  I.  "How  do  you  suppose  it  came 
so?" 

"  Children,"  said  he. 

"  No,"  I  affirmed  positively.    "  I  found  it  so  before ;  and 


ZERUB    THROOP'S  EXPERIMENT.        385 

I  have  watched.  They  never  meddle  with  it ;  and,  be 
sides,  it  was  not  so  at  bedtime.  We  undressed  them  here. 
Do  you  suppose  I  should  n't  have  noticed  it  ?  " 

"  Spirits,  then,"  suggested  Eylett,  meekly,  as  driven  to 
a  logical  end.  "  It 's  their  style.  Like  their  impudence." 

"  Pshaw  !  "  said  I,  which  was  precisely  what  he  wanted 
me  to  say. 

For  all  that,  the  same  night  there  was  a  greater  din  and 
rampage  than  ever ;  and  the  next  morning  there  was  the 
register  fairly  off  and  away,  wheeled  completely  from  the 
hole,  and  laid  with  nearly  its  entire  circumference  upon 
the  carpet. 

I  called  them  all  then,  —  Eylett,  Caroline,  and  Adasha 
Do \vne.  It  was  early.  The  children  were  only  just  wak 
ing  up,  and  beginning  to  throw  the  pillows  at  each  other, 
or  to  pull  on  stockings  heel-side  before. 

"That  ghost  comes  up  the  register-pipe,"  said  Adasha 
Downe,  solemnly,  looking  into  the  hole  as  into  the  mouth 
of  the  pit. 

"  And  the  ghost  is  "  —  cried  I,  with  a  sudden  illumina 
tion. 

"  Never  in  this  world !  "  broke  in  Eylett,  catching  my 
idea,  and  putting  the  extinguisher  on  before  I  had  fairly 
shown  its  little  blaze.  "  Just  lift  that  register,"  said  he. 

I  put  my  hands  under  the  two  valves,  an  iron  and  a 
brass  one.  I  suppose  they  weighed  six  or  seven  pounds. 
Could  indeed  a  —  well,  the  object  of  my  suspicion  —  lift 
them  up  ? 

"  I  don't  care,"  said  I.  "  We  11  see.  I  '11  sit  up  this 
very  night." 

On  the  whole,  however,  when  bedtime  came,  I  decided 
to  take  that  first  nap,  and  trust  to  the  usual  reveille  for 
warning.  If  I  was  right  in  my  convictions,  it  would  give 
me  time  enough.  I  am  a  light  sleeper.  I  always  hear 
the  first  stir. 


386  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

I  put  a  light  in  one  of  the  ell-rooms,  and  set  the  door 
open  upon  the  passage.  I  left  another  burning  in  my  lit 
tle  sewing-room,  back  in  its  farther  corner,  and  shaded  so 
that  it  shone  faintly  out  through  the  play-room. 

A  cross  passage  led  over  from  opposite  the  head  of  the 
back  staircase,  between  the  rooms,  to  a  linen-closet. 
Standing  in  this  opening,  or  just  down  the  first  step  of  the 
staircase,  one  could  command  the  whole  scene  of  action, 
and  nothing  could  pass  in  or  out  without  observation. 

I  laid  my  dressing-gown  and  slippers  in  instant  readi 
ness.  In  fact,  everybody  else  did  the  same ;  and  we  all 
slept,  so  to  say,  upon  our  arms ;  for  everybody  had  peti 
tioned,  "  Call  me,  if  you  hear  anything." 

Somehow,  we  were  a  little  later  that  evening  than  usual ; 
so  that,  with  my  ordinary  and  extraordinary  preparations 
for  the  night,  it  was  eleven  o'clock,  and  the  others  were 
all  asleep,  when  I  was  about  to  put  out  my  own  candle. 
Just  as  I  had  my  hand  upon  the  extinguisher,  it  began  — 
the  noise. 

That  frantic,  struggling,  scratching,  ringing,  infernal 
sound,  coming  away  up  from  depths  below,  and  echoing 
everywhere. 

"  Quick !  there  it  is  already ! "  I  cried  to  Eylett,  and 
in  the  same  moment  was  off  myself.  I  darted  in  at  the 
two  doors  on  my  way,  and  wakened  the  girls  with  one 
shake  each.  "  Don't  be  ten  seconds,  or  else  don't  come  !  " 
I  said,  and  hurried  on.  And  in  less  than  a  minute  we 
were  all  upon  the  spot,  huddled,  listening,  lying  in  wait, 
in  staircase  and  entry. 

There  was  no  doubt,  standing  there,  where  the  sound 
came  from.  Up  that  long  pipe  from  two  floors  below,  it 
tore  and  grappled,  grated  and  resounded ;  came  on,  with 
pauses,  higher  and  higher  ;  at  last  was  on  a  level  with  our 
selves.  Then  a  fierce  stirring  and  grinding,  a  seizing  of 


ZERUB    THR  OOP'S   EXPERIMENT.         387 

hold  and  purchase.  And  then  the  valves  clattered,  as  if 
pushed  against,  ineffectually,  once  or  twice ;  then,  with  a 
great  hoist,  they  raised,  swiveled,  clashing  round,  and  fell 
with  an  awful  bang  upon  the  floor. 

That  demoniac  cat  walked  forth. 

It  was  a  positive  fact.  We  saw  it  with  our  eyes.  If 
anything  in  this  story  —  my  part  or  anybody's  else  —  is 
embellished,  it  is  not  that. 

"  I  told  you  so  !  "  said  I  to  Eylett. 

And  Eylett  could  not  say  a  word. 

We  were  all  down  cellar  next  morning,  after  our  early 
breakfast,  investigating ;  and  the  more  we  investigated, 
the  more  we  wondered. 

Out  of  the  brick  dome  of  the  furnace,  high  up,  came 
the  tin  pipe  that  ran  horizontally  one  third  or  more  the 
length  of  the  house,  then  up,  twelve  feet  perhaps,  through 
the  lower  story  and  the  two  floors. 

We  opened  the  iron  door  of  the  air-chamber  from  which 
the  pipes  radiated,  and  looked  in.  There  was  only  this 
one  that  started  laterally ;  all  the  rest  sprung  from  the 
top.  The  furnace  itself  was  built  close  against  a  brick 
partition  which  divided  the  cellar.  A  heavy  padlocked 
door  shut  off  the  forward  part,  which  had  been  Mr. 
Throop's  wine-cellar,  and  where  all  remained  as  he  had 
left  it.  Through  some  opening  in  the  back,  accessible  only 
from  this  locked  division,  must  come  the  supply  of  air  to 
feed  the  furnace-chamber,  and  circulate  in  the  pipes. 
Through  this,  also,  by  ways  known  only  to  herself,  must 
have  crept  the  cat,  and  likewise  circulated. 

Into  that  dark,  hollow  space,  up  its  rough-cast  sides, — 
into  the  small,  utterly  obscure  aperture,  along  those  twenty 
feet  of  mystery  and  uncertainty,  —  one  would  think  this 
was  exploit  and  marvel  enough ;  but  up  that  twelve  feet 
perpendicular,  with  nothing  but  the  lapping  of  the  tin 


388  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

sheets  to  claw  by,  and  the  bracing  of  her  body  between 
the  narrow  sides  !  Beyond  that,  the  closed  register  at  the 
top  !  What  sort  of  faith,  or  instinct,  or  impishness,  was 
it  that  led  her  on  ?  We  stood  in  utter,  awed  bewilder 
ment.  It  was  almost  stranger  than  a  ghost. 

One  thing  was  certain :  we  could  not  let  the  play  have  a 
run  of  a  hundred  nights.  Something  must  be  stopped  up, 
or  come  down. 

"  The  hole  in  the  furnace,"  suggested  Caroline. 

"  We  can't  get  at  it." 

"  Nail  something  over  the  register." 

"  Then  we  should  have  the  noise  all  the  same,  and  the 
poor  cat  would  have  to  tumble  twelve  feet,  and  crawl 
twenty  backward.  She  deserves  better  for  her  smartness." 

"  Unhitch  the  pipe." 

"  We  can't  have  workmen  into  the  house,  or  alter  any 
thing." 

"  I  '11  do  it  myself,"  said  Adasha  Downe.  And  she 
straightway  ran  up  the  cellar  staircase,  beside  which  passed 
the  pipe,  and  laid  brave  hold. 

A  neck  of  iron  was  set  in  the  brick-work  of  the  furnace, 
around  which  fitted  the  tin  sheet.  Adasha  pulled  and 
pulled ;  but  what  could  she  do  with  twenty  or  thirty  feet 
of  metal  cylinder,  and  years  of  rust  ?  Eylett  stood  still 
considering,  while  she  strove  unheeded.  Then  he  went 
and  got  a  hammer  and  a  chisel.  Then  I  climbed  up  on  a 
barrel,  on  the  other  side  of  the  pipe  to  where  Adasha  was. 
Caroline  took  the  children  up  the  staircase,  and  kept  them 
there  peering  down  at  us  in  a  little  eager  heap  from  its  head. 

Eylett  hammered  and  loosened,  and  we  pulled.  We  all 
pulled.  Eylett  twisted;  and  presently,  all  of  a  sudden, 
some  weak  joint  gave  way  above,  and,  at  the  same  moment, 
the  neck  yielded,  and  —  crash !  down  came  the  whole 
thing,  revenging  itself  upon  us  by  its  compliance. 


ZERUB   THROOP'S  EXPERIMENT.        389 

"  Oh,  mamma  !  mamma  !  "  cried  out  Robbie  ;  for  I  and 
my  barrel  had  tumbled  down.  Adasha  seated  herself  very 
hard  upon  the  stairs. 

"Are  you  hurt,  Lizzie?"  cried  Eylett,  coming  in  a 
hurry. 

No.  Nobody  was  hurt.  Only  the  pipe  was  separated 
in  two  or  three  places,  the  air  was  full  of  dust,  and  we  felt 
as  if  we  had  pulled  half  the  house  down. 

"Phew!  phew!"  said  Eylett;  and  brushed  his  hands 
against  each  other,  and  looked  at  the  wreck. 

He  lifted  a  long  piece,  and  set  it  up  on  end  against  the 
wall.  Out  of  it,  as  he  did  so,  fell  a  great  deal  more  dust, 
and  other  things  which  we  perceived  as  the  dust  subsided. 
A  great  many  pins  —  of  course  ;  an  old  piece  of  black 
comb  ;  a  red  chessman  ;  nutshells  ;  a  brass  thimble  ;  hair 
pins  ;  corks  ;  a  handful  of  coppers  that  probably  used  to 
roll  out  of  Zerub  Throop's  trousers-pockets  when  he  pulled 
them  off ;  in  the  midst  of  the  heap,  something  round  and 
bright,  like  a  silver  ball. 

The  children  —  little  wreckers  that  they  always  are  — 
were  down  again  by  this  time,  notwithstanding  remon 
strances.  They  could  n't  help  it ;  they  kept  minding,  and 
going  up,  and  irresistibly  gravitating  down  again,  in  little 
sprinkles,  one  and  two  at  a  time. 

Robbie  pounced  upon  the  shining  thing. 

"  Oh,  I  speak  for  that !     Is  it  a  silver  dollar,  mamma?  " 

Poor  Robbie  had  heard  traditions  of  silver  dollars, 
earned  and  saved  up  in  his  father's  childhood  ;  but  his 
little  experimental  knowledge  stretched  not  beyond  the 
days  of  scrip. 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  I  said,  foolishly.  "  That  is  n't  a  dollar.  It 
is  n't  anything." 

"  Not  anything,  mamma  ?     Why  —  why  —  here  it  is  !  " 

"  I  '11  tell  you  what  it  is,"  said  Blossom,  standing  daintily 


390  HOMESPUN  YARNS. 

on  the  stairs  out  of  the  dust,  with  her  fresh  pique  frock, 
and  her  little  white  stockings.  "  It 's  a  fairy  ball,  and 
Miss  Whapshare  will  tell  us  a  story  about  it." 

"  So  I  will,"  said  Car,  seizing  her  opportunity.  And 
she  got  them  all  away,  up  out  of  the  cellar. 

What  she  told  them  I  don't  know,  —  about  fairy  balls 
that  opened,  and  had  wonders  inside  ;  and  fairy  balls  that 
only  rolled  and  rolled  and  rolled,  and  led  people  along 
through  forests  and  among  mountains,  and  out  into  some 
paradise  perhaps,  of  elf-land,  at  last.  But  when  I  had 
changed  my  dusty  dress,  and  washed  my  face  and  hands, 
and  seen  Eylett  brushed  up  and  off  to  the  train,  I  found 
them  all  together  in  the  play-room ;  Car,  with  the  ball 
in  her  hand,  and  Robbie  and  Blossom  beseeching  her  to 
open  it. 

"  Then  it  will  be  spoiled,"  she  said,  "  if  it  is  n't  an 
opening  ball.  I  think  it  is  a  rolling  one.  It  must  have 
rolled  down  the  register.  Who  knows  where  it  will  roll 
next  ?  " 

Behind  me  up  the  stairs,  in  a  fashion  of  privilege  she 
had  taken,  came  suddenly  Sarah  Hand. 

And,  of  course,  then  came  the  story,  —  all  about  the 
cat,  and  the  pipe,  and  the  ball. 

"  You  see  a  great  tin  piece  of  the  house  came  down 
when  they  pulled,"  said  Robbie,  "  and  broke  ;  and  every 
thing  came  out,  — cents  and  pencils  and  everything." 

"  Droppins  and  sweepins,"  said  Sarah  Hand.  "  That 's 
how  they  came  there." 

"  Not  my  fairy  ball,"  said  Robbie.  "  That  rolled  itself. 
Nobody  knows  where  it  rolled  from.  Way  down  and 
down,  and  over  and  over,  and  all  through  the  world." 

"I  '11  tell  you  where  it  rolled  from."  said  Sarah  Hand, 
taking  it  up.  "  I  remember  it.  It 's  one  of  the  things 
that  used  to  lay  round  on  Zerub  Throop's  table.  I  know 


ZERUB   THRO  OP'S  EXPERIMENT.         391 

'em  all  by  heart ;  the  things  I  used  to  turn  over  and  dust, 
and  put  back  careful.  I  noticed  that,  because  it  looked 
as  if  there  might  be  something  did  up  in  it.  He  fixed  it 
his  own  self  one  day  after  dinner.  I  recollect  the  day 

too.  'Cause  Mis'  Wh he  'd  had  a  visitor,  and  we  'd 

had  a  talk.  I  s'pose  he  was  jest  settin'  thinkin'.  It 's 
kinder  awful,  comin'  across  things  so,  after  folks  is  dead 
and  gone." 

And  Mrs.  Hand  laid  back  the  ball  on  Caroline  Whap- 
share's  lap. 

Caroline  took  it  up  as  if  by  a  sudden  impulse,  and 
picked  out  one  edge  of  the  folded  foil.  A  little  tremor 
passed  over  her. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  said  I. 

"  Nothing.     I  shivered,  I  don't  know  why." 

"  H-m-m !  "  said  Mrs.  Hand,  and  looked  solemn. 

"  I  think  that  might  as  well  be  unrolled,  and  done  with, 
now  the  story  is  told,"  I  said  briskly  ;  for  the  children's 
eyes  were  getting  big.  "  We  shall  be  having  little  night 
mares  of  the  ball  traveling  about,  if  we  don't  take  care." 

Then  Caroline  turned  back  corner  after  corner,  edge 
after  edge,  until  two  ends  were  opened  out.  It  was  no 
longer  a  ball,  but  a  little  roll.  There  was  something  in 
it. 

Paper,  —  written  paper,  folded  and  coiled. 

"  I  feel  as  if  it  were  a  secret,"  said  Caroline,  as  the  last 
doubling  of  tin-foil  fell  away,  and  left  it  in  her  hand. 

"Perhaps  it  is.  But  there  is  nothing  hidden"  —  I 
stopped.  Car  had  got  the  paper  open,  had  given  one 
glance  at  it,  and  every  bit  of  color  had  flashed  instantly 
out  of  her  face. 

"  Mrs.  Bright !     What  does  it  mean  ?  " 

And  poor  little  Caroline  burst  out  crying.  That  saved 
her  from  fainting  away. 


392  HOMESPUN   YARNS. 

I  took  the  creased  and  curled-up  scrap. 

For  value  received  of  Miles  Whapshare,  in  the  year 
one  thousand  eight  hundred  and  forty-five,  I  promise  and 
direct  to  be  paid  to  Mrs.  Miles  Whapshare,  widow  of  said 
Miles  Whapshare,  or  her  heirs-at-law,  six  months  after  my 
decease,  or  on  the  presentation  of  this  paper  to  my  execu 
tors  at  any  time  within  five  years  from  such  decease, 
Thirty-five  thousand  dollars. 

ZERUBBABEL  THROOP. 

I  turned  it  over. 

"  October  19th,  1866. 

"  Left  to  Providence. 

"  Payable  to  order  ;  that  is,  on  turning  up." 

We  sent  for  Rufus  Abell  and  for  Dr.  Plaice. 

It  was  all  quite  plain  and  strong ;  as  strong  as  it  was 
queer. 

"  This  is  the  thing  that  was  provided  for,"  said  Rufus 
Abell,  just  as  unmoved  as  if  he  could  possibly  have  ex 
pected  it.  I  suppose  Mr.  Abell  had  got  over  surprises 
long  ago. 

Arthur  and  Caroline  went  home  together  to  tell  Mrs. 
Whapshare. 

I  watched  them  go  down  the  hill  in  the  sunshine,  gath 
ering  it,  as  it  were,  around  and  after  them,  to  carry  down 
in  one  great  golden  rush  into  the  corner  house  that  had 
been  full  of  little  crowding  clouds  of  care  so  long.  I 
thought  of  that  bit  of  creased-up  paper  in  Rufus  Abell's 
wallet,  and  how  it  would  go  to  probate  with  the  will,  and 
settle  everything,  and  how  strange,  and  changed,  and 
wonderful  it  all  was.  And  I  bit  my  tongue  to  try  if  I 
was  awake ;  and  then  I  turned  round  and  said  to  Mrs. 
Hand :  — 


ZERUB    THRO  OP'S   EXPERIMENT.        393 

"  To  think  it  should  all  be  by  means  of  that  cat !  " 

"It's  very  well,"  said  Mrs.  Hand,  with  slow  signifi 
cance,  "  to  lay  it  all  off  on  to  her.  But  what  possessed 
the  cat  ?  It 's  like  the  pigs  in  the  New  Testament.  If  — 
a  ghost  —  wanted  something  —  out  of  a  register-pipe,  — 
he  might  —  very  likely  —  need  some  sort  —  of  a  cat's-paw 
to  help  hisself  with." 

Was  it  a  cat,  or  was  it  a  ghost,  or  was  it  simply  Provi 
dence  ?  It  was  the  question  left  on  our  minds.  We 
thought,  humbly  and  honestly,  that  it  might  be  all  three. 
We  put  this  and  that  together  that  we  had  learned,  and 
we  believed  it  just  possible,  among  the  mysteries,  that 
Zerub  Throop  had  at  last  "  come  across  Providence,"  and 
had  been  set  to  work  perhaps  with  such  links  and  agencies 
on  earth  as  he  had  established  for  himself. 

At  any  rate,  the  Ghost  Story  and  the  Cat  Story  got  so 
mixed  up  and  merged  that  they  were  never  popularly  dis 
entangled. 

We  could  never  get  any  other  girl  than  Adasha  Downe 
to  live  with  us  at  Throop  Hill,  though  we  came  there  three 
summers. 

"  The  owld  man  might  ha'  left  somethin'  else  that 
needed  seein'  af  ther ;  who  knows?"  the  Irish  said. 

Caroline  Whapshare  and  Arthur  Plaice  were  married 
in  September.  Mrs.  Whapshare  gave  them  five  thousand 
dollars. 

"  There  would  be  that,"  she  said,  "for  each  of  the  chil 
dren,  and  the  same  for  her  own  part.  They  should  have 
their  share  as  they  came  to  want  it.  She  'd  done  waiting 
enough  herself  for  the  whole  family." 

Miss  Suprema  Sharpe  had  a  kind  of  congestive  fever 
that  fall.  She  took  cold  at  the  wedding.  But  the  doctor 
did  not  think  that  was  quite  the  whole  of  it.  There  was 


394  HOMESPUN  YARNS. 

a  feverish  fullness  that  must  determine  somewhere,  —  a 
greater  pressure  than  the  ordinary  circulation  could  carry 
off. 

A  ghost-story,  a  fortune,  and  a  wedding,  —  what  they 
did  with  the  money,  and  how  they  behaved  about  it,  —  all 
this,  you  see,  to  come  right  in  here,  like  an  avalanche,  at 
the  corner,  to  be  thoroughly  sifted  and  discussed,  and 
realized  and  criticised.  Well,  it  could  not  have  gone  much 
harder  with  Suprema  Sharpe  ;  and  if  you  knew  her  as 
we  do,  Dutton,  you  would  understand. 

It  is  n't  a  matter  to  make  fun  of,  though,  and  I  would  n't 
have  you  think  I  do.  It 's  an  awful  fact,  and  a  solemn 
retribution.  There  is  such  a  thing  as  a  vacuum  in  heart, 
or  brain,  or  life,  by  which  the  surrounding  atmosphere  has 
to  press  in  with  fifteen  uncompensated  pounds  to  the  inch. 
And  that  is  the  way  the  burden  of  everybody's  else  af 
fairs  comes  down  at  last  upon  the  Sharpes. 

That  couldn't  have  been  in  Dante;  could  it,  Dutton 
dear? 

But  if  Dante  had  come  after  Kepler  and  Newton  — 
and  a  few  other  folks  —  I  guess  it  would  have  been. 


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